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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034678">Everything's Gonna Be Fine, Fine, Fine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/easilydistractedbyfanfic/pseuds/easilydistractedbyfanfic'>easilydistractedbyfanfic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>S7 Countdown - 5 Days of Murven Fics [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cussing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Matchmaking, Oh no there's only one bed, Quarantine, Strangers to Lovers, unexpected roommates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:15:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/easilydistractedbyfanfic/pseuds/easilydistractedbyfanfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight months ago, Raven's life and all her plans got interrupted through no fault of her own. Just when she's finally - and literally - back on her own two feet, the entire world practically shuts down due to an epidemic, restricting her ambitions even further. But the biggest complication by far is the unexpected roommate crashing in her living room.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Murphy/Raven Reyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>S7 Countdown - 5 Days of Murven Fics [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yep, it's a quarantine fic. I mean, the setup is rather perfect for forced togetherness, and I'm here for that with these two. 😉This story maaaaay have come about after I discovered a floorplan design website, LOL!<br/>Guys - this is the 5th story in my 5 Days of Murven fic countdown to s7, and I'm getting in at least the first part of it just under the wire!<br/>THIS IS MY 40TH MURVEN STORY!! CAN YOU BELIEVE??? I have been writing them since late June 2018, and in under 2 years we're at 40 stories, close to 500k words (holy crap) and a lot of wonderful fandom friends! Thank you all for your continued support! I really hope this season is kind to us, but if it isn't - just remember that there's gonna be fix-it fic!</p><p>Hope you're all staying sane &amp; healthy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/170152452@N02/49831111013/in/dateposted-public/">  </a>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/170152452@N02/49723070277/in/dateposted-public/">  </a>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What it all comes down to</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Is that everything's gonna be fine, fine, fine</em>
</p><p>~ Hand In My Pocket, Alannis Morissette</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got to be kidding me.” </p><p> </p><p>She says the words into the phone, flat and unemotional, reluctant to believe her ears even though she knows the voice on the other end isn’t joking. No, Sinclair was as serious as she’d ever heard him, and while his tone was apologetic, Raven knew he was counting on her even though she absolutely, vehemently and unequivocally did <em> not </em> want to grant this favor. </p><p> </p><p>“If I had any other options, I wouldn’t be asking,” Sinclair says, and Raven’s certain he means it but god, she wishes it was anyone else on the planet making the request, because she could turn <em> them </em> down in less than two seconds flat. Sinclair, however… well, he was a different story. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine. I’ll do it.” There’s no disguising the resigned gruffness in her voice, and even if Sinclair hadn’t known her so well, it would’ve been hard for him to ignore. </p><p> </p><p>“I know it’s a lot, Raven. I’ll owe you a big one for this.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighs, blowing out a heavy puff of air as she pushes aside the curtain on the front window and looks down at the deserted street below. “No, no. I’m sorry. We both know if anybody owes anything, it’s me. I just thought I’d be working it off in the garage rather than getting a stranger for a roommate.”</p><p> </p><p>“None of that now.” Sinclair always scoffs at the idea she should repay him for anything, but the vague sense of debt persists even so. “We don’t know how long this whole thing is going to last, but I promise I’ll keep looking for some other options.”</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t say no to that, but I’m well aware I have you to thank for stocking this place up for me, and even with another person here, there’s plenty of supplies. You kind of went overboard, you know. I couldn’t eat all this food by myself.” This time there’s affection and a smile that accompanies her comments, a sort of olive branch to make up for her previous grumpiness. He’d bought three boxes of her favorite tea, the sweet man. It’s impossible to deny him anything when all he’s ever done is look out for her. She’ll forever be grateful for what he’s done and continues to do, and paying it back goes far beyond anything as simple as money. </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t eat enough,” he accuses, “and while I know you were hoping for some peace and quiet to settle into your new place, I can’t help but feel relieved that you won’t be all alone. I worry about you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” she acknowledges, feeling that strange sense of delight that always sprouts inside her when Sinclair acts like a concerned father. Silly of her, considering he’s been the closest thing to a parent she’s had since even before her mother died, but then she’s never been good with her emotions. </p><p> </p><p>“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she demands, which is basically her own declaration of love, and she doesn’t have to wonder if Sinclair picks up on the underlying sentiment when he laughs softly in response. </p><p> </p><p>“Of course. You know I’m in good hands here.”</p><p> </p><p>He is. She can rely on that, at least. Everyone in the neighborhood and the mechanics who work at his garage all adore Sinclair too, so she doesn’t have to worry that he’ll be looked after even when she’s not there. Still, with everything going on right now and all the information that keeps changing and updating, she can’t help being worried too. He’s not as young as he used to be. </p><p> </p><p>“But if you need something, I <em> will </em> find a way.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be fine, and I mean it, Raven. It’s genuinely taking a load off my mind that you won’t be alone, and that through you, I’m able to help out an old friend. You remember his grandmother got custody of him around the time you came to live with me, and we got to know each other through the parenting classes we had to take. We were both in over our heads back then, but he’s turned out alright. I hear he has a good job in the city now, and last I saw him he wasn’t quite the juvenile delinquent she used to tell me about.” Sinclair pauses, and Raven would bet money he’s got a smile on his face, thinking back on just how difficult <em> she’d </em> been as a teenager.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, he should be there soon. I’m going to call him and give him the go ahead as soon as I hang up with you. Try not to kill him even if he gets on your nerves, alright? For me? He’s probably going to feel as awkward about this as you do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” she grumbles. Like <em> he’s </em> the one giving up his personal space for a stranger. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? And you call me if anything...happens.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will. Goodnight, Raven. Be safe. And thanks again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Considering he’ll be arriving at any minute, Raven rushes through her studio apartment, tidying up. She hasn’t been here long enough to get the place truly messy; her suitcases are only partially unpacked in the closet and only a few boxes of books and photographs have been placed on her shelves so far. But she left her dirty clothes on the bathroom floor last night after trying out her new tub, and she figures a wipe down of the counters wouldn’t hurt. The kitchen is in the best shape, with Sinclair’s efforts last week to unpack and fill the cabinets full of food, but really this guy is just going to have to put up with the moving boxes piled in the dining area since he doesn’t seem to have a lot of options at the moment. Besides, as she looks around the open living room with satisfaction after closing a few car magazines and stacking them onto her desk, as far as she’s concerned, this place is practically perfect. </p><p> </p><p>The downstairs door chime rings out much too loudly through the speaker mounted in her entry hall - it’s the first time she hears it, and something she’s definitely going to have to adjust. A quick peek at the mirror leaning against the wall near her front door shows a few streaks of grease on her cheeks, and she scrubs recklessly at them as she carefully makes her way down the steps to the unobtrusive door near the rear of her shop. Hindsight being what it is, a second floor apartment may not have been the best plan, but there’s nothing to do about it now. In any case, as awkward as the steps are for her these days, they give her a sense of accomplishment even as she curses them under her breath. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t bother looking out the peephole, not when there’s been barely any movement outside the past two days. Instead she wrenches the door open, taking in the disheveled-looking young man in front of her. Hmmm. She's not certain how she feels about the fact that he's attractive. She’d guess he’s in his mid-twenties like she is, and he’s watching her with a hopeful intensity in his vivid blue eyes.   </p><p> </p><p>“Hi. Are you Raven?”</p><p> </p><p>“Afraid so. And that makes you Murphy.”</p><p> </p><p>“John Murphy, yeah. Everybody calls me Murphy though. Thanks for agreeing to this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm,” she murmurs, gesturing for him to enter and locking the door once he does. “You should know I’m a reluctant innkeeper. Only one person in the world could have gotten me to do this, and fortunately for you, he’s the one who asked.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll consider myself lucky then. My grandmother tells me about her calls with Sinclair, but I haven’t seen him for a while now since she went into the retirement home. I didn’t think he’d be able to find a way to help me out so fast, but I’m grateful to both of you.” He half shrugs, offering a not-quite-apology for his presence. “It’s not my default, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior and avoid pissing you off. I get that this sucks.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven turns, eyebrows raised as she reassesses her new roommate. “Well, at least you cut to the chase. Let me be honest in return.” She steps towards him, keeping her eyes on his as she leans in close, right arm raising to flick the lightswitch over his shoulder. He doesn’t flinch and his gaze doesn’t waver either. Good. She hates pushovers. </p><p> </p><p>“This is my shop. It’s not open yet, but as you can see, I’ve already got two cars in the bays so at least I won’t be bored while we’re stuck inside. I don’t know what Sinclair told you, but my apartment takes up part of the upstairs and I only moved in a coupla days ago. He stocked up the kitchen, so I think we should be mostly okay on supplies, but I wasn’t expecting guests any time soon. I have boxes that aren’t unpacked yet, and not everything is where I want it. So, I don’t know, I guess I’m just saying don’t expect fancy towels or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>She wraps up her impromptu speech, suddenly a little nervous. It occurs to her that he’ll be the first person to see her place besides Sinclair, and Sinclair doesn’t really count since he was part of the whole construction process from the beginning. There’s a lot of herself in her apartment, and even though this John Murphy is a stranger, quite a large part of her wants him to like the place, to hear a few unsolicited compliments from a visitor. She should’ve lit a candle or two upstairs, since it probably smells like engine grease already, especially considering the pile of parts she left on the dining table. Too late now, and she frowns as she realizes she probably smells like engine grease too. </p><p> </p><p>“Listen, my other option was to start knocking on doors to see if I could pay someone to let me stay with them, so this is already better than I was expecting. Not that anyone was prepared for this, but I was <em> really </em> not prepared for this.” He adjusts the duffle bag that’s looped over his shoulder and gives the bag a vague gesture. “I had a few days off work so I caught the train to see my grandmother. She’s been in the same retirement home for a couple years, and she’s not really supposed to have overnight guests, but I’m familiar with most of the staff so they let me get away with it. I was gonna crash on her couch like usual. But practically as soon as I got there, the home kicked everyone out except residents and necessary staff, and by the time I walked back to the train station, news was saying the roads were closed, so even renting a car wasn’t gonna happen. Walked over to a couple mom and pop hotels but everything’s either booked or shut tight. My grandmom said she might have a way to solve the problem, and not long after, I got the call from Sinclair that I could come here.”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she’s not the only one who gets wordy when they’re nervous, and feeling a twinge of pity for <em> both </em> of them and the situation they’ve ended up in, she offers him a genuine smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Sinclair’s a marshmallow. He helps anybody who needs it, stranger or not. He’ll take it even further for a friend. This time he’s probably patting himself on the back at how he got a couple of birds with one stone.”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy looks at her curiously, a little crease forming just between his eyebrows as he tries to understand what she means. </p><p> </p><p>“Helping you not only eases your grandmom’s mind, which makes him happy, but he can worry less about me too, knowing I’m not alone. Sometimes I swear he still sees me as the skinny, lost little thirteen year old I was when I met him.” Turning towards the staircase, she waves a hand toward the wall behind him. “Turn off those lights, please, and I’ll show you around upstairs.”</p><p> </p><p>He does as she asks, and the light at the top of the landing illuminates their way as they climb the steps. She can feel his eyes on her back, and there’s no hiding the fact that the brace on her leg makes her progress slow. Frustration blooms in her chest. Her physical therapist would probably tell her she’s projecting, and he might be right. Defensiveness comes too easily these days. </p><p> </p><p>When they reach the top, Raven gestures at the red door. “My apartment door takes a different key than the side door I let you in, and there’s another key for the front customer door too. I have an alarm system for downstairs, so if you want to go outside, I’ll have to turn the alarm off first. Depending on how long you’re here, I’ll give you the code. I haven’t been locking this door during the day, but at night that’s non-negotiable.”</p><p> </p><p>She sneaks a peak at him to see his reaction, but he seems to be taking everything in stride. It’s been too long since she’s been around people. Besides Sinclair and her therapist, anyway. Probably best if she stops trying to pick him apart when her track record lately is nothing to brag about. He’s already more bearable than she expected. Maybe this won’t be as bad as she thought. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>If he was superstitious, he’d be tempted to play the lottery. He’d already felt like he’d gotten massively lucky when Sinclair called him to say he could crash with his daughter, solving his immediate - and rather huge - problem in the middle of this fucking disaster. He was a little curious when he was given directions to a repair shop instead of a residence, and told to ring the bell at the back door, but he’s well aware beggars can’t be choosers. He’ll take whatever he can get. But then <em> she’d </em> opened the door, and ‘lucky day’ seemed like too paltry of a description. </p><p> </p><p>He knew <em> of </em> her, of course. His grandmom liked to gossip, and she’d talked about Sinclair and his foster daughter, Raven, often over the years. But they’d never met even though he’d seen Sinclair a handful of times. He knew she helped fix cars in Sinclair’s garage - Sinclair was always bragging about her - but it had never occurred to him that she’d be so... <em> hot</em>. </p><p> </p><p>And outspoken. She’s definitely that too. But that just makes it even better if you ask him. He doesn’t like people who hide their motives, even if he is pretty good at figuring them out by now. Raven’s made it clear that she’s doing this because Sinclair asked her to - not out of the goodness of her own heart. He’s alright with that. He meant it when he told her he knows this sucks. The outbreak of some random virus has created an unfamiliar and likely unwelcome situation for both of them, and even without his grandmom’s warning to be a gentleman, he wouldn’t deliberately screw this up. His reputation as an asshole isn’t entirely unearned, but he does in fact know how to behave himself when he wants to. And if anybody deserves his best effort, it’s the woman literally opening up her home to him in his time of need. Even if it <em> is </em> hard to keep his eyes off her ass as he follows her up the steps to her apartment. </p><p> </p><p>Listening with half an ear while she tells him something-something about keys, he’s far more interested in why she seems nervous now that they’re upstairs. It’s not in her businesslike tone, more in her body language - all fidgety fingers and shifting body weight. She hesitates for a moment and then opens the bold red door to her apartment, turning her head to look over her shoulder at him with an apologetic grin. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry if it smells like engine oil in here. Kind of comes with the territory.”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy steps into a small entry that opens up into a hallway in front of him, a door to his left as he drops his duffle bag onto the floor. It’s a sunny space, lit from a skylight above, and Raven moves closer, sliding the pocket door into its niche inside the wall as she gestures him forward into what looks like a good-sized laundry room, his eyes drawn immediately to the state-of-the-art washer and dryer. But after his initial impression, he can see the room continues behind a set of floor to ceiling cabinets, the hint of a shower stall just visible behind them.  </p><p> </p><p>“Since I planned to live here full-time while the shop gets on its feet, I designed the laundry room to be close to the main entrance for when I’m wearing my shop clothes. I can throw things right in the wash without tracking grease everywhere. While you’re here, you can use this as your bathroom. There’s towels in these cabinets.”</p><p> </p><p>“You designed your apartment?” Murphy asks, already impressed with the way the space is laid out, ducking his head around the cabinet to look into the bathroom section. “Makes sense to be able to get clean right when you come in the door after such dirty work.”</p><p> </p><p>A pleased expression spreads across her face. “Right? My contractor kept trying to convince me to swap the layout, so that the bathroom would be in the front. But I kept telling him no, and I’m happy with how it came out. Anyway, there’s laundry and cleaning supplies in the cabinets too. You can use whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>He follows her out of the laundry room, and they pass a long, galley-style kitchen on the left. The cabinets are sleek and white, and there’s plenty of counter space. Now this he could get used to. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh man, you’ve got a double oven,” he murmurs, jealous that his own apartment has no such thing. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, for all the good it’ll do me,” she laughs. “I’m not much of a cook. Sinclair pushed for that one, telling me it’d be great for Thanksgiving.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re alright with it, I can attempt to make up for my presence by taking that chore over while I’m here. I’m a chef, or at least I was before this quarantine went down.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really? Well, you’re welcome to help yourself. I’m not even really sure what’s in all these cabinets as far as kitchen gadgets go, but Sinclair piled the pantry pretty full of groceries for me before I moved in. There’s actually spillover in the hall closet over here, look. He went kind of crazy, actually. But it works out for us now, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>She leads him back through the kitchen, past the large bookshelf and to another pocket door facing into the open hallway. It’s got wire shelving units lining the walls and on them is everything from packs of toilet paper to extra blankets. There’s a vacuum and floor steamer in the corner, a step-ladder hung on the wall. Kind of looks like she’s prepared for a zombie apocalypse, honestly, and he says so, making her laugh. He likes the sound of it. </p><p> </p><p>“Basically this whole place is a big square, and the kitchen, this closet and my clothes closet are in the middle of it,” Raven explains, shutting the door and guiding him into the open space of the living area. There’s long windows on one wall, and there’s no curtains or blinds on them so the sun shines through, making the space feel warm and cozy. It’s comfortable looking, with a loveseat and chair that face towards the large tv, on the same wall as a tidy desk. It surprises him though, at what he can see on the other side of the loveseat. </p><p> </p><p>“This is a studio?” He asks, turning to look at Raven in surprise. He wasn’t expecting the living space and bedroom to be all one area. The large queen-sized bed, covered in a fluffy-looking white comforter and a pile of pillows is definitely hard to miss. </p><p> </p><p>“Sinclair didn’t mention that part?” Her tone is dry, like she’s amused. “It had a little something to do with why I wasn’t exactly delighted by this arrangement. But like I said, he’s a difficult person to say no to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn, now I feel worse about invading your privacy. I saw a stack of blankets in that closet - I can just crash downstairs in your garage or something.” Not his favorite solution, but it feels like the polite thing to offer. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Raven scoffs. “This isn’t ideal, but the floor downstairs is all cold concrete. I don’t have an air mattress or a sleeping bag, and Sinclair would give me an earful about that anyway, even if I swore it was your idea. At least we have our own bathrooms.” She looks over at him, and if he had to put money on it, the look on her face says contrite. “But now that I’m thinking about it, I’m sorry to break the news that my loveseat doesn’t pull out into a bed either. I ordered it online while I was still in the hospital, and I wasn’t really sure about the measurements of the space or if a sofa bed would even fit. Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>He rushes to reassure her, disliking the pitch her voice took when she mentioned being in the hospital. “No, no. There’s nothing to be sorry for! If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing over and over again for getting you into this. I’ll keep looking for other options, and who knows, maybe this will be over pretty quickly.” </p><p> </p><p>Raven gives him a brisk nod, but he can tell she doesn’t believe his words either. He’s not optimistic that this is going to be done with anytime soon. There’s an awkward little silence that follows, making him feel an urge to fill it. </p><p> </p><p>“Is everything okay? From whatever you were in the hospital for, I mean.” It’s the first thing that comes into his head, and as soon as he says it he wants to kick himself. He phrased it more politely than his usual off-the-cuff remarks, but still - it’s fucking nosy. “Shit. Ignore that. I’m not great at the not pissing people off part of social interaction.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine. Really.” She gestures at the high-tech brace on her leg. “It’s not like it’s not obvious I have this on. It’s going on nine months ago now. A regular day and I was out on the road running errands. Until I got hit by a drunk driver and my leg was badly injured. I landed in the hospital and got rushed into some major surgery. After that I had to move back in with Sinclair and get through pretty intensive rehab to learn how to walk again. It knocked the whole timeline off for the opening of my shop, and now I guess this virus is going to affect that further. I only got the okay a few days ago from my physical therapist to get back to work full-time and live on my own again, so that’s why I just moved in, and why Sinclair stocked the place up for me.” She smiles wryly at him. “And it’s why I think he’s secretly thrilled you needed a place to stay, because he’ll worry a lot less about me now that I have company.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s at a loss for words. “Fuck, that really sucks. I’m sorry that happened to you. And just when you get your independence back, here I am to ruin it all. If you wanna kick me out, I won’t hold a grudge.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know what? It <em> does </em> fucking suck.” She shakes her head self-deprecatingly. “But everybody’s got their problems, I guess. And as far as kicking you out goes, maybe that depends on how good of a chef you are.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well in that case, you’ll never want me to leave,” he brags, relief surging through him that he doesn’t seem to have offended her. He’s pleased that she can tease him like she doesn’t have any hard feelings after his thoughtless question. Making up his mind to thoroughly impress her with his cooking, he watches her turn to walk past the bedroom area, pointing out her clothes closet on the left as he follows her towards the dining area, and he feels angry at the thought of all she’s gone through because of a careless drunk driver. His fingers squeeze into fists at his side, remembering his own past.</p><p> </p><p>“Murphy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, what?” He hadn’t realized she was speaking to him, too caught up in memories. </p><p> </p><p>“I said it’s not a lot, but there is some wine and a few bottles of alcohol in the cabinet over there, if you want any.” Raven points to a low cabinet between the large windows along the front of her building. Piled around it are quite a few moving boxes, a small stack of books visible inside the box closest to him. </p><p> </p><p>Her dining table is half-covered in car parts, complicated gears and tiny pieces spread out along its surface. The sharp tang of engine grease is traceable in the air now that he’s close to the fragments scattered around, looking to him like a complicated jigsaw puzzle, but it doesn’t smell out of place. No, it suits the owner just fine. </p><p> </p><p>Despite the openness of her living arrangements, the dining area feels almost separate. There’s a skylight here too, and some large potted plants that look well-cared for. Somehow the rough look of the machine parts and the sophisticated, modern feel of the table and chairs work together. He likes her apartment. And already he likes her, even more so when she excitedly points to a cabinet door built into the wall, sounding eager to show it off. </p><p> </p><p>“Look, this is one of my favorite things I put in,” she gloats. “It’s a dumbwaiter, like old houses used to have. That way I can load in parts to work on after hours if I want, without having to lug them up and down the steps. Works for groceries too.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a great idea. You can tell you put a lot of thought into this place - it’s comfortable and not fussy. I like it.”</p><p> </p><p>The smile on her face is brighter than the sun streaming through the skylight. He likes that too. </p><p> </p><p>“Only one more space to show you, and that’ll wrap it up. This is the main bathroom. It has a tub. I don’t know if that’s your kinda thing but you can use it if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>The same tile from the laundry room and other bathroom is on the floor, but this space is more open, with quite a few plants. All in all, her apartment is large, especially for a studio, and he can’t wait to poke around in her kitchen. He tells himself the impulse to impress her with his cooking is out of a desire to show her his appreciation for letting him stay with her, but as she offers to clean out some space in one of the cabinets in the hall bathroom for what he’s brought with him, he knows it’s already deeper than that. Raven may have been talked into having him here, but she doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge over it, genuinely making attempts to make him comfortable when she’s barely gotten to have the place to herself. He’s not sure if he could have been as considerate if their roles were reversed. </p><p> </p><p>If he had known this was how things were going to turn out, he wouldn’t have been so stressed out at the train station earlier, worried about what he was going to have to do to find a place to stay. This kind of answer to his problem wasn’t anything like what he imagined, and he considers what he may have done to deserve this kind of outcome. He’s unexpectedly <em> happy </em> he’s going to be staying here for the foreseeable future, and he’s going to do whatever he can to make Raven feel the same way. For once, things were working out, and this wasn’t going to be bad at all. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Not that she had really given it a lot of thought, but this isn’t how she would’ve bet her first evening would go with her new houseguest. She figured it would probably be awkward, spent trying to come up with things to talk about or even politely ignoring each other, but that’s not how the evening is going at all. No, after she gave Murphy a tour and made space for him to put his belongings on a few shelves in the smaller hall bathroom, he’d offered to make dinner. She’d pushed her messy engine pieces towards one side of the dining table and wiped the other half down, doing her best to stay out of his way as he’d rushed around her kitchen, but it had felt nice to set the table for two people rather than eating hunched over the counter as she’d been doing on her own. And then he’d magically produced some kind of salad and a chicken dish that he told her the name of but she’d been too busy devouring it to pay close attention. </p><p> </p><p>They made small talk while they ate, but the back of her mind was busy wondering just what it was about Murphy that had her relaxing her guard, because there wasn’t any other explanation she could come up with for why she’d brought up her hospital stay when she’d shown him around earlier. She knew it was a sore spot for her, always feeling prickly and confrontational if someone brought up her injury. But this time <em> she’d </em> been the one to mention it, and rather casually at that. Murphy had responded in the way that she preferred though, acknowledging the situation but not making a big deal of it, and she knew from experience that was about as good as it gets. Even when people meant well, things often got uncomfortable, and then there were those that just were nosy from the get-go. But Murphy hadn’t really been fishing for information, and she’d still given him a lot more than she usually provided. Hell, most of the time it was a closed subject as far as she was concerned. She’d volunteered quite a lot, even hinting at her frustrations that her garage opening timeline had been pushed back, and she hadn’t even been that candid with Sinclair. Although knowing him, he knew without her having to say a word. Even so, Raven wonders if maybe the loneliness is getting to her. Either that, or Murphy’s sincere blue eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Which she could admit, were awfully nice. Especially the way they twinkled when he’d turned down her offer to clean up after dinner, making a joke about having to earn his keep. But god, if he cooked like that even once a week, she was already convinced it would be worth it to keep him around. </p><p> </p><p>And that thought there probably <em> is </em> a sign that her loneliness has reached its limits. She was going to need to figure out a plan to get in touch with her friends again either way, and maybe it’d be better to do it now when she really couldn’t let them convince her to get together when they were all stuck in a quarantine. She’s thinking about who she might call first when Murphy strides into the living room, his cellphone pressed to his ear and an annoyed expression on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“I really don’t think that’s necessary.” And then a pause as he rolls his eyes at her and puts his fingers over the bottom of the phone to keep from being audible. “My grandmother wants to talk to you.” His tone is so resigned she can’t help but smile. </p><p> </p><p>Now that’s interesting. She’s met Melinda Murphy quite a few times since she came to live with Sinclair. Mostly quick conversations when Sinclair joined Melinda for lunch, or sometimes Raven would answer the phone and they’d chat. And Melinda had sent a check and a really thoughtful card with a touching note about how proud Sinclair was of her when Raven had graduated high school. Raven still had it tucked away in a keepsake box in her closet, actually. But they hadn’t seen each other for a few years, though Raven assumes Sinclair has kept her up to date on things like her accident since they were friends. </p><p> </p><p>Murphy looks at her expectantly, like he wants to know if she’s okay to take the phone, and Raven nods, not getting up from her armchair in the corner of the room. He passes the phone to her, shaking his head with a rueful smile as he sits on the arm of her loveseat, knees turned towards her. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p> </p><p>“Raven! Hello, dear! It’s Melinda Murphy. I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this, but John can be so stubborn. Are you well? I’m sure this is such an intrusion but I’m tremendously grateful. I know it’s new, but is he behaving himself so far? I’ve warned him to be on his best behavior - he’s a good boy at heart but he’s got a sharp tongue and heaven knows how many times I’ve told him to think before he speaks! Just keep him busy cooking and you’ll get on well, alright? If he’s really bugging you, ask him to make something complicated with lots of steps in it. That’ll get him out of your hair for a few hours. But don’t tell him I told you that!”</p><p> </p><p>Her head feels like it’s spinning from the barrage of information Murphy’s grandmother rattles off and Raven’s eyes widen in amusement as she suppresses a giggle. She looks over at the subject of their conversation, and it’s clear he seems to know exactly what Melinda planned to say to Raven, since Murphy just lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. Murphy. I hope you’re doing okay there too. And yes, he’s been very polite,” Raven says when Melinda finally takes a breath. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Murphy rubs his forehead like he’s giving up any sense of control on how the call goes. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m pleased to hear it, and don’t worry about me - they’re taking good care of us here. Now I want you to promise me - if he gives you any trouble, any at all, I want you to pick up the phone and call me right away. I may be tucked away in this nursing home, but I’m still quite capable of getting my point across to my grandson.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you want me to call you if he gives me any trouble?” Raven repeats the instructions out loud, tickled at this turn of events. </p><p> </p><p>“Give me that!” Murphy leans in and grabs the phone out of her hand, exasperated. “Grandmom, I’m not fourteen any more. I do know how to be a responsible adult now, and I’m not going to do anything to embarrass you.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven can’t hear Melinda’s reply, but the whole scenario feels sweet more than anything else, particularly because she can tell Murphy isn’t angry, and she suspects he’s probably used to this kind of response by the way he seemed to know what was coming when he passed her the phone. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I promise. I’ll tell her. I know, I know. Tell Indra I said not to let you watch too many of those soap operas. Me too. Bye.”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy ends the call with a grin. “She’s not one for subtlety, my grandmom.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven laughs. “I like Melinda. I haven’t seen her for a few years though. Sounds like she hasn’t changed.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. Sometimes it drives me crazy that she thinks I need parenting still, but then again, I gave her a hell of a lot of trouble when I first came to live with her, so she’s probably sure she can’t let her guard down for a second or I’ll regress back to the delinquent I used to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know the feeling,” she agrees. She feels a connection with Murphy over it, that their situations are similar, and it’s only when the sustained eye contact sends a little swoop to her belly that she looks away, clearing her throat before self-consciously asking if he wants to pick a movie. </p><p> </p><p>The rest of the night passes by uneventfully after she discovers they have similar tastes in what they like to watch, but it’s nice to sit with another person and have company even if they’re watching tv quietly together rather than talking. They stay up later than Raven usually does, and it’s probably her multiple yawns that prompt him to pause the show they’ve chosen.  </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry - I’m used to late nights in the restaurant business.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, but I think I better get to bed. You can keep the tv on if you want - I don’t think it’ll keep me awake.” She gets up from her chair and walks over to the hall closet, rummaging around until she finds what she’s looking for. </p><p> </p><p>Returning to the living room, she drops a small stack of sheets and blankets onto the coffee table. “If you need more, there’s a couple extra blankets in there on the shelves. It’s been getting chilly still at night, so the heat might kick on while we’re sleeping. The thermostat is by the front door if you need to adjust it, but if I wake up cold we’re going to have words.” She softens her threat with a little grin that he returns, and when she moves past the table to head towards the bathroom, he reaches out and gently catches her sleeve, making her pause. </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks. For everything you’re doing to make me feel like I’m not causing you trouble by being here, I mean, even though I am screwing up your plans.”</p><p> </p><p>A beat passes and he lets go of her sleeve awkwardly when she looks down at his hand. It’s not that she means to make things uncomfortable by not answering, but she’s not sure what to say. When Sinclair asked her for this favor, it felt like a terrible kind of invasion of her privacy. But now that he’s here, it’s weirdly...nice. She might be out of practice when it comes to being around other people, but Murphy is the kind of person she’d probably gravitate towards if they had met under different circumstances. That feels like too much to say to a semi-stranger though, so she falls back on sarcasm and hopes he picks up on the underlying sentiment. </p><p> </p><p>“You could be worse.”</p><p> </p><p>She hears him chuckle under his breath as she walks away. Yeah, he gets it.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay don't kill me! What was supposed to be a one-shot just keeps getting longer! I really think I can wrap it up in one more chapter after this, which is already partially written. But hey - more content is good, right?! Enjoy, and stay sane &amp; healthy!</p><p>Please be safe and smart if you are going to any protests lately. I have a lot of posts on my tumblr and twitter about staying safe and where donations can be made for help with bail and organizations that support Black Lives Matter. I hope this chaotic and scary time can be a turning point for positive systemic change towards social justice - but it won't unless we keep up the pressure! Please VOTE in November!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/170152452@N02/49831111013/in/dateposted-public/">  </a>
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  <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/170152452@N02/49723070277/in/dateposted-public/">  </a>
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  <em>I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed</em>
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  <em>I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby</em>
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  <em>What it all comes down to</em>
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  <em>Is that everything's gonna be fine, fine, fine</em>
</p><p>~ Hand In My Pocket, Alannis Morissette</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day 2 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Murphy wakes up to bright, annoying sunlight glaring through the windows, a charley horse in his calf and the faint scent of something both spicy and floral in his nose. He shuts his eyes tighter, massaging his leg futilely as he tucks himself into more of a fetal position, and buries his face deeper into the pillow, remembering. </p><p> </p><p>Last night he had spread out the sheets and blankets Raven had given him onto the loveseat, trying to get comfortable after she’d yawned four times in a row and headed off to her bathroom before bed. He’d told her he was used to late nights, and he wasn’t kidding - he’d planned to zone out with something mindless until he went to sleep himself, unless she changed her mind about the tv bothering her. When she’d walked out of the bathroom, he’d tried to keep his eyes on the screen in front of him, but it felt like her bed was so much closer to the living room area now that the lights were out and everything felt cozy and more intimate. He’d made an effort not to listen as her covers rustled when she climbed in, but only a few moments had passed and she had called out softly to him. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Murphy - catch!”</p><p> </p><p>Looking up just in time, he caught the fluffy pillow she tossed his way. The pillow case was plain white cotton to match the rest of the bed, but it had a white satin ribbon along the edge. It smelled nice too.</p><p> </p><p>He’d thanked her and told her goodnight, and then she’d rolled to her side, facing away from him. He’d flipped through channels for a while, eventually taking a quick shower in the hall bathroom before turning everything off. </p><p> </p><p>Now he breathes in the scent of the pillow again, assuming it’s her shampoo since the blanket he’s using doesn’t smell the same. That scent is of regular laundry detergent - nice but not nearly as intriguing. The pillow though… that’s something he wouldn’t mind sniffing regularly. He sighs, attempting to think about something else. Only trouble can come from thinking about his temporary roommate’s shampoo. He’s reluctant to wake up, though it now seems inevitable since his brain won’t shut off. It feels early so he reaches his hand down, feeling blindly for his phone to check the time. Eventually he grabs it and pulls it in front of his face, squinting until he can see it’s only just past seven A.M. Much too early to be awake. His gaze falls on Raven in the bed not far past where his feet rest. She’s facing him now, eyes shut and face relaxed though her fist clutches the blanket under her chin. He wonders if she’s chilly. In sleep she’s softer, more open and his mind drifts, imagining what she’d do if she woke up only to find him staring at her. Probably scowl at him, get in a prickly little attack on his character or something similar. He likes that about her. So far it’s hard not to like everything about her. </p><p> </p><p>Last night he’d set out to impress her with dinner. From what he could tell from the way she had two helpings, it had worked. Raven might’ve been joking when she’d teased about not kicking him out if he’d proved to be a good cook, but besides not wanting to take any chances, he liked doing what he was good at. And cooking just so happened to be a specialty. So maybe it was cocky of him, but he had been pretty sure he could win her over with food. What he hadn’t expected was how much he enjoyed the conversation that had come with the meal. It wasn’t particularly deep, what they talked about. Just general getting-to-know-you stuff. But it had been good all the same, and certainly better than all of the dates he’d been on the last couple of months. </p><p> </p><p>He’s busy contemplating the ramifications of that thought when a muffled groan comes from Raven’s side of the room. An arm snakes out from under the blankets and dramatically drapes over her eyes, and he doesn’t bother to hide his grin when she speaks out loud. </p><p> </p><p>“God, what was I <em> thinking </em>when I told them not to hang all the blinds!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that wasn’t the best call,” he agrees, and she bolts upright in the bed to look at him, obviously surprised that he answers her.</p><p> </p><p>Her hair is a mess and her eyes are wide as they fly to his, and he’s definitely going to have to do something about how his brain immediately files it under ‘adorable’. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. I kind of forgot you were here.” </p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t wake me.” Which is true, but now he’s tempted to complain about how she could have forgotten about him, since that’s not exactly the impression he’s going for.</p><p> </p><p>Voice roughened with sleep, Raven rubs at her eyes and shrugs. “I saw a bunch of bright, sunny apartment photos online, and I thought I wanted to replicate that look, so I left blinds and curtains off the two living room windows. They’re on the side of the building so I figured it was fine. But after just a few mornings here with the sun streaming in so rudely, I’m realizing I care more about sleep than the aesthetic.”</p><p> </p><p>“Might take longer than usual, but you can order some online and end our suffering.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven raises her eyebrow at his use of the word ‘our’, but she doesn’t argue, probably because he <em> is </em> awake and she knows he stayed up later than her. </p><p> </p><p>“I already have them. They’re in the closet and cut to fit the windows.” She picks at the edge of the blanket on her lap, hesitating for a moment. “But I couldn’t get the big ladder up the stairs to hang them myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh. She didn’t like admitting that. He doesn’t blame her. Gotta be complete shit to not be able to do things you used to barely even think about. </p><p> </p><p>“I can do it, if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>A grateful smile tugs her lips up. “That’d be great.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s every chance there’s an infatuated grin on his face as they stare at each other, and then Raven breaks the spell, pushing her covers back. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll make some coffee. I don’t know about you, but if I’m going to be up this early, I’ll need buckets of it.”</p><p> </p><p>She snaps her brace around her leg with practiced ease, and as he watches her walk towards the kitchen, he notices her socks have miniature wrenches printed all over them. Mmm-hmm. More <em> interesting </em> than all the dates he’d been on lately too. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Spending most of the day with Murphy was…<em> interesting</em>. And enlightening, if you asked her. He wasn't easy to figure out, that much was becoming clear, but he was kinder than she anticipated and genuinely didn’t seem to mind carrying the big ladder upstairs as she gathered the tools they’d need to put up the blinds. They’d waited until right after an early lunch to get started, not wanting the harsh sunlight in their eyes as they worked. He’d been really pleased to spot the fire escape out the window closest to the back wall, and when she told him she had it put in to meet the code when she’d converted the loft to an apartment, he got even happier after he’d crawled out the window to see how it turned the corner to the back of the building. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey! This is like a porch back here . And you have a swing on it!” He pops his head back in the window with a wide grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Yep. The backyard is tiny since this is basically a commercial property. So the contractor said we could extend the fire escape to the back almost like a balcony while he was installing it all and I jumped at the chance. It’s still kind of small, and you have to climb out the window to get to it or climb up the fire escape ladder from outside if I leave it down, but it’s private. The swing is like the one that Sinclair has on his front porch. I had a lot of nice memories there as a teenager.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are the flower boxes you or Sinclair?” </p><p> </p><p>For some reason, the question makes her self-conscious. The orange and yellow marigolds had looked so cheerful she couldn’t resist them. “I like plants, okay? But it remains to be seen if I can keep them alive. So don’t mess with them!”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy laughs. “Fine by me, Miss Touchy! Your precious flowers are safe. But I’m definitely taking over the herbs in the cardboard box since they’re looking like they need some water. I can put those to good use if they don’t die.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, what? What herbs? I didn’t buy any of those.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then the herb fairy paid you a visit, because they’re definitely out here. Hold on”</p><p> </p><p>He disappears around the corner for a few moments and comes back, three little six-packs of plants balanced in his hands. They definitely need a drink. “You’ve got basil, rosemary and some mint. Basic stuff but so much better than dried.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sinclair probably got them and forgot to tell me he put them out there.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll bring them in, give them a soak in your sink. They should recover. But they’ll need bigger pots if you want them to grow well.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have any more. I just bought those flower boxes that fit over the railings and wasn’t planning on anything else, at least not until I figure out if I can handle the flowers and the plants that are inside.”</p><p> </p><p>“S’okay,” Murphy shrugs as he climbs back into the apartment. “When I made dinner last night, I took a solid look at your supplies. You’re right that Sinclair really stocked you up, but he wasn’t anticipating someone would be here who could <em> cook</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Real funny,” Raven interjects, rolling her eyes at the dig. </p><p> </p><p>“But the truth,” he continues. “I saw all those boxes of powdered mac and cheese, Raven. Those’ll rot your brain. Anyway, when I walked here from the train station, I saw a small neighborhood grocery. I want to pick up a few things later, so I’ll see if they have something we can put these herbs in while I’m there.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know the governor has a mandate that you have to wear a mask now, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll figure something out.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s been trying not to worry too much about this quarantine scenario, but the idea of Murphy going to the store doesn’t thrill her. Yet it’s not really her place to tell him no, and she knows it’s kind of ridiculous that she almost wants to anyway. At least she can look out for him. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about it. When you want to go, I have something you can use.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks at her expectantly but she doesn’t offer any more information. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go after we finish the blinds,” he says, and she bends down, picking up the cordless screwdriver she’d abandoned on the coffee table when Murphy had gotten distracted by the fire escape. He climbs back up the ladder and holds out his hand, and she passes him the screws he’ll need. When her fingers brush his palm, she tells herself the flicker of awareness that burns under her skin would happen with anybody because it’s been so long since she’s touched another person other than Sinclair and her physical therapist. </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, it doesn’t sound all that convincing even to her own ears. </p><p> </p><p>And later, when she presents him with a small stack of the expensive filtration masks she uses in her shop, along with a box of disposable gloves, nothing she might have told herself could have prevented the giddiness that bubbles up in her belly when his candid blue eyes look deep into her own, stripping away her defenses and leaving her feeling bare. </p><p> </p><p>“Guess it really was my lucky day when you opened the door.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He struggles with the key she gave him in the downstairs side entrance, his arms full with a few bags of fresh groceries and some other impulse buys. Once he gets inside, he kicks off his shoes and leaves everything by the door, walking towards the bathroom sign he noticed in the corner of the shop when Raven had let him in just yesterday. It can’t hurt to wash his hands down here first, even though he was careful to keep his gloves on while he was in the store, only pulling them off inside out once he got a fair distance towards her apartment. There hadn’t been many people out, and he mostly bought fruit and vegetables along with some baking supplies. He carries the bags of fresh items upstairs, leaving the prepackaged things downstairs since he won’t need them right away. The large bundle wrapped in brown paper comes too, and he’s a little dismayed when he gets upstairs only to discover Raven doesn’t immediately come over to greet him. </p><p> </p><p>Laying the bags on the floor in front of the kitchen sink, he peeks into the dining room and then around to the living room without spotting her. The window behind her chair is open though, so she’s probably out on the fire escape. It’s kind of absurd to feel disappointed that she wasn’t anxiously awaiting his return, and it’s entirely likely that he’s making too big of a deal out of their sudden relationship. But he hasn’t lived with anyone since his grandmother, and the fantasy that someone would be waiting for him to come home - even if it was a temporary one - appealed to him more than he realized. He shakes his head at the sentimentality of it, picking up the bundle at his feet. The yellow flowers had been pretty in the store, sunny and happy like spring was supposed to be, and he thought Raven might like them. So he’d bought a few bunches and the lady behind the counter had wrapped them for him. Remembering a few wide-mouthed jars in one of the kitchen cabinets, he lifts one out and fills it halfway with water, arranging the flowers until they look decent. He admires his work as he places them on the dining table, and then he starts carefully dumping a bag of fruit into the sink for a good scrub before putting them away. </p><p> </p><p>His hands are full of apples when he hears a faint creak in the hallway, and a second later Raven appears in the kitchen, a car magazine in her hand. She smiles at him, and although it’s not exactly the way he pictured how she would welcome him back from the store, it’s still a damn good thing to return to. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t hear you,” she says. “Did you have any trouble?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope. Hardly any people in the store, though there were a few walking around outside. I left some groceries downstairs to air out - don’t touch ‘em but if they’re in your way I’ll move them.” He leans down and grabs a few more things from the bag. “I did find a couple terra cotta pots for the herbs. They’re downstairs too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that’s good. What’s that?” Raven points to the reddish stalk he’s rinsing. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s rhubarb.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I’ve ever had it. What does it taste like?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s kind of bitter, and you can’t eat the leaves. But if you pair it with other fruits and some sugar, it’s really good. I’m thinking of making an apple rhubarb pie since it’s in season now. Maybe on pancakes. It’s good with strawberries, and you can put it in cocktails too.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven nods emphatically. “You should do all those.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughs at her enthusiasm. “I didn’t buy <em> that </em> much of it. But I’ll see what I can do.” He lays a few stalks onto the paper towels on the counter. “I should have remembered to ask you before I left for the store, but is there anything you don’t like to eat?”</p><p> </p><p>She wrinkles her nose, leaning against the counter as she considers. “I hate the smell and taste of vinegar. And cilantro tastes like soap, so I skip things like salsa a lot in case it’s in there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not a fan of broccoli then, are you? And what about grapefruit?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really, no. How did you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Instead of answering, he jerks his chin towards her and leans closer. “Stick out your tongue.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why?” She narrows her eyes at him like he’s the most suspicious person she’s ever met, and it amuses him so he tells her so. She relaxes a little then, seeing the humor in it herself. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” she mutters, and sticks out her tongue, a faint glare still obvious in her warm brown eyes even as she decides to trust him. </p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head as he examines her tongue, getting into her personal space maybe a little more than necessary. Okay, definitely more than necessary as he backs her into the counter, taking his time since this is the first moment she’s allowed him so close. </p><p> </p><p>“Yep. Exactly what I was afraid of.”</p><p> </p><p>“Murphy! What are you talking about?” She takes a half-step sideways, but doesn’t retreat as far away as she was before. </p><p> </p><p>He goes back to washing a few sweet potatoes, trying his best to keep any mischief out of his tone. “It’s easier to tell with food dye, but you’ve got a lot of taste receptors in a small area on your tongue, so you’re probably one of those genetically inclined super-tasters who are more sensitive to bitter tastes. It’s something we cover as fancy chefs, you know, since it means people perceive the taste of dishes differently.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s skeptical, he can tell. And then she makes her doubt even more obvious. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that a real thing or are you teasing me?”</p><p> </p><p>Laughing, he lifts up his wet hands to shrug. “Look it up if you don’t believe me! It’s a real thing.”</p><p> </p><p>He can literally hear her mumble a long ‘hmmm’ under her breath, and he honestly expects her to whip out her phone or go track down her laptop just to fact-check him, but then as she’s examining his face to sniff out his motives, her eyes are drawn past him to the dining room and the vase of daffodils on the table catches her attention. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, these are so pretty!” </p><p> </p><p>Raven steps over to them, her fingers drifting gently over the silky petals, and he’s thankful he gave in to the whim to buy them now that he can see how happy they make her. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess you could call them a housewarming gift or something, since you only just moved in.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hand hovers above the cheery bouquet, a completely different expression taking her face from delight to something more like...sincere? Touched? He’s not entirely certain, but whatever it is, she seems to be faltering with what to say. He doesn’t know if he should speak up, break the silence with a joke or just let things be and a fair bit of panic is starting to stir within him when she finally clears her throat and looks back over at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. I love them.”</p><p> </p><p>Now it’s his turn to stumble with words. He settles on something simple, but strangely it doesn’t feel like enough. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He brought her flowers. Yellow ones. And called them a housewarming present. </p><p> </p><p>Raven goes back out on the fire escape while Murphy finishes putting away the things he bought at the store, because her face feels hot and she doesn’t know what to say and also she might actually cry. None of the guys she dated ever brought her flowers. Not even Finn, and she went to high school prom with him! Sinclair has gotten her some lovely things for her apartment, but no one else has even seen it, let alone made a point of giving her a present after moving in. And yeah, part of that problem is her own fault, but Murphy picking something out to give to her after having just met her… It means a lot even if she couldn’t quite put it into a proper sentence. </p><p> </p><p>Murphy’s so <em> different </em> from anyone else she knows. It barely matters that she only met him yesterday, because she can just feel how true it is from the way she’s reacting to him, as if it doesn’t even <em> count </em> that they’re practically strangers. Something about him makes her comfortable, has her dropping her guard and she doesn’t understand it, isn’t even sure if she likes it or not yet. But she does know she wants to learn more, wants to find out what this instinctual pull might be trying to tell her. </p><p> </p><p>She stays outside with her latest car magazine, reading the same article four times without absorbing any of it, rocking the time away on her porch swing until the air grows cool and she knows she’s going to have to face Murphy again. Her cheeks aren’t burning any longer at least, and when she climbs back through the window, she can hear him in the kitchen, accompanied by some really appealing smells coming from that direction too. She heads to her bathroom to wash her hands and then resolutely begins to set the table for dinner, determined not to let Murphy think she’s avoiding him despite that being exactly what she was doing. When he’s intent on the dishes he’s preparing, she lets her gaze roam over him, trying to piece it all together. He’d crowded her against the counter as he’d teased her before, getting her to stick her tongue out even though she wasn’t sure if he was telling her the truth about her taste buds. It had made her breath skip a little, having him so close. She didn’t have to think hard to know that everything else aside, she’d liked <em> that </em> part of her reaction. No question. It’s been longer than she wants to count since she’d kissed anyone, but the topic is definitely on her mind now, and it’s all thanks to him.</p><p> </p><p>Their second dinner together goes well as she admirably pretends he’s not making her nervous, and they talk about the restaurant he works at, how she got interested in tinkering with car engines and random bits and pieces of their history. She does start to feel less tense as they eat, and Murphy promises they’ll have pie for dessert tomorrow. This time she doesn’t let him argue about it and does the cleaning up herself, giving him the task of digging out her Playstation 4 from one of the boxes in the dining room, since after she mentioned that she had one he’d been eager to play. </p><p> </p><p>When she finishes with the dishes, he’s busy with a few cords behind the TV, but she spots the case for Gran Turismo 6 on the coffee table and has to suppress a squeal. She’s <em> awesome </em>at racing games. </p><p> </p><p>“Really? GT6 is the choice you’re making? You must be feeling brave.”</p><p> </p><p>He peers at her from around the side of the TV, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Trash talking already, huh? You must think you’re good at it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think it, I <em> know </em> it,” she brags. </p><p> </p><p>And it’s true. She got a lot of practice during the period after her accident when she was stuck taking things slow, forced to allow Sinclair to wait on her or risk ruining the progress with her leg. The thought reminds her she owes him a phone call to check in, so she tells Murphy to give her a few minutes, then flops across her bed to flick through her contact list. She’s always happy to chat with Sinclair, but tonight she’s really looking forward to showing Murphy just how easy it’ll be to kick his ass. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Murphy sits back into the corner of the loveseat, the game console hooked up and ready. Raven hadn’t gone far for her phone call, so he assumes she’s not concerned about privacy. Which is a good thing since he can clearly hear her side of the conversation as she’s lying on her bed just a few feet away. He sneaks a few glances at her while he sets up the TV screen to play the game, and it’s not hard to notice that she’s different while she’s talking. Not that he’d describe her as on edge around him exactly, but her body is softer, more relaxed while she speaks with Sinclair and so is her voice. It’s like all the fight has been drained out of her, allowing affection and warmth to take over. He wonders how it would feel, to have her soft emotions directed at him. She’d admitted that the only reason she agreed to him staying with her was because it was Sinclair who had asked. It shouldn’t mean anything, absolutely shouldn’t bother him in the least, but he can feel himself getting jealous the longer she stays on the phone. He’s already been on the receiving end of her politeness, her kindness too. But the sweetness on display being aimed at someone who’s not him can only be described as stirring envy on his part and he knows it’s true even as he wants to deny it. What the hell is wrong with him?</p><p> </p><p>So they’ve had a few meals and spent about a day and a half together. And he’s bunking on her loveseat which just so happens to be close enough to her bed that he can watch her while she’s sleeping. He did entertain a harmless little fantasy that she might be glad to see him after he got back from the supermarket, but that’s all it was - his imagination. Maybe he’s just had too much of a dry spell, and that’s why his mind is going places it shouldn’t. It’s plausible, since outside of a handful of first dates that’ve led nowhere, he hasn’t been getting much action. He’s been restless, bored, and it was a big reason he’d decided to visit his grandmother spur of the moment, looking for a scenery change to see if it would knock him out of his funk. Instead he’s dealing with a quarantine and an incredibly attractive woman who’s got him all confused. Granted, she’s definitely giving him new things to think about which don't have him bored at <em> all</em>, but even he knows he’s getting a little carried away. Feeling jealous of her foster dad is a pretty obvious clue. </p><p> </p><p>Scrolling through the various cars the racing game has to offer, he makes an effort to block out Raven’s voice. Probably it would’ve been better for his libido if she wasn’t so good-looking, but already that’s only a piece of it. Although if he was going to make a wish, maybe it should be that he doesn’t like her personality so he could kill this interest before it goes any further. He suppresses a groan, both at the twinge in his back as he shifts forward on the cushion and also at his inability to turn off his thoughts. Trading one set of problems for another seems like par for the course when it comes to his life, so at least he’s got consistency going for him.  </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I see you eying up the Nissan Micra,” Raven says as she crosses the room, grabbing the other controller off the coffee table before sitting down on the loveseat next to him. Her knee brushes his thigh. </p><p> </p><p>“You got something to say about it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Plenty, but you’re gonna figure it all out when my awesome red Alfa Romeo 156 leaves you in the dust no matter what you pick.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you’re going fast front-wheel-drive on me then?”</p><p> </p><p>Raven shrugs, a little smirk on her face as she adjusts the pillow behind her. It’s the one with the white pillowcase from her bed that she tossed at him from the night before, and once she’s got it properly fluffed, she nestles her body into it. Which isn’t distracting at all. </p><p> </p><p>“How’s Sinclair doing, all good?” he asks, attempting to think about anything else other than how his face will be laying against that same pillow later, and she turns away from the TV screen to face him.  </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, he is. I’m lucky because he’s popular in the neighborhood where I grew up, so he’s got people checking in on him all the time, even though he protests he doesn’t need looking after. It’s a big reason why I felt like I could leave Arkadia and come here to open a new branch of the shop. He says a stray cat has been coming around; that he’s been feeding it in the backyard, and he thinks there might be a litter of kittens under the shed back there. Pretty sure next time I talk to him, that mama cat will have a name. And there’s every chance he’ll be occupying himself trying to lure the kittens into the house too.”</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head fondly and he can’t help himself from commenting. </p><p> </p><p>“When you let me stay here,” he reminds her, “you said Sinclair was a big marshmallow. Gotta tell you that from what I can see, you’re just as big of one as he is. At least where he’s concerned, anyway. So maybe you should think about what <em> you’re </em> going to name a kitten.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth opens in an ‘O’ of surprise before she manages to sputter at him. “That’s not… I’m not…" She gives up after a few seconds. “Damn it, you’re probably right.” She sounds resigned at the realization, and then she starts to laugh. </p><p> </p><p>“God, I’m going to end up with a kitten, aren’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy grins. “I may only be your first stray of this quarantine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t jinx me,” Raven warns. “Sinclair <em> is </em> my family, and I really would do just about anything for him. I guess if you want to get technical, I was something of a stray myself when I first started hanging around his garage. Probably even wilder than those cats back then. He took me in too, kind of, even though my mom was alive in the beginning. When I showed interest in the cars, he started to teach me everything he knew. I was there practically every day after school, and always on the weekends. And then when my mom died, he took all those classes to be my foster dad.” She takes a shaky breath, clearly getting emotional.</p><p> </p><p>This time he’s close enough to see how her eyes change and turn softer too, when she’s talking about someone she loves. It’s fascinating and compelling and so much deeper than the surface connections he’s been finding lately, and he’s not sure how long they sit side-by-side on the small loveseat, just looking at one another, but then she moves slightly and nudges him with her elbow, a sly grin spreading across her lips. </p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, you’d better be careful yourself. All I have to do is land a couple of carefully placed hints, mentioning how appreciative you are that he helped you out with a place to stay in your time of need. And how you’d probably <em> love </em> to repay the favor if you could. And bam! You’ll be on the receiving end of one of Sinclair’s phone calls, and then you’ll figure out how hard it is to say no to him.” Her grin turns smug. “I bet I won’t be the only one who ends up with a kitten.”</p><p> </p><p>Shit. She’s absolutely right about him feeling like he owes Sinclair, and for more than just the place to crash. Sinclair’s the reason he knows Raven now, and no matter how long she’s stuck with him staying with her, he’s determined that at the end of it all, they’re going to stay friends. At the very least.</p><p> </p><p>“If that happens, I <em> will </em> find a way to get back at you.”</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t look the least bit intimidated. “Oh, come on. I could see you with a cat. We could split one of those huge bags of kitten food, and you could sneak it in to see your grandmom when you visit her. All the kittens could be named alike, like after Greek gods. Or types of cheeses.”</p><p> </p><p>Because it doesn’t actually sound horrible, he changes the subject, attempting to hide his interest by picking up the game controller that’s resting on his thigh and gesturing with it towards the TV. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, you do have a bit of an advantage in this game. Being a mechanic and all.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Ignore me. And I was going to let you have the name Nacho, too. I’m going to take Beaufort. Or maybe Asiago.” </p><p> </p><p>He almost laughs, quickly turning it into a cough instead. A cat named Nacho isn’t the worst thing that could happen to him. </p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, let me remind you that <em> you </em> picked the game, Murphy.” Raven smiles playfully, looking slightly over her shoulder at him. It’s unfair how much it affects him. “So I’d say you’re gonna deserve what’s coming your way.”</p><p> </p><p>She kicks his ass six races to two before she takes pity on him and they mess around on the surface of the moon doing a mission with lunar rovers. Where she also wins. </p><p> </p><p>Privately, he gives himself permission to consider it a successful date.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This went long. No one is surprised. Settle in for over 12k on this chapter. Stay sane &amp; healthy and I hope you enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/170152452@N02/49831111013/in/dateposted-public/">  </a>
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  <em>I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed</em>
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  <em>I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby</em>
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  <em>What it all comes down to</em>
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  <em>Is that everything's gonna be fine, fine, fine</em>
</p><p>~ Hand In My Pocket, Alannis Morissette</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day 3 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>When her eyes flutter open the next morning, for the first time it’s not because the sun is too bright. No, she was dreaming, Raven remembers. About what is harder to hold on to, the elusive feelings of contentment fading away faster the more she tries to grasp onto them. Her instincts tell her it was a good dream though, as she rolls to her side and savors the remnants of hopefulness wafting at the edges of her consciousness. She’s smiling until her eyes fall on Murphy, scrunched up on her loveseat a few feet away. Her expression fades into concern, aware that he doesn’t look very comfortable. </p><p> </p><p>His legs are hanging over the padded arm of the seat, his neck at an awkward angle where it rests on her spare bed pillow. The blanket is half puddled on the floor instead of spread out over his lower body, and even though she had no way of knowing she’d be having a house guest, she feels a twinge of guilt that she doesn’t have a pull-out to offer him. At least he’s not frowning in his sleep, his face calm and his mouth slightly parted, though with the way his arms are wrapped around himself, it’s possible he’s chilly. She wonders what time he went to bed last night. They had fun, playing video games and laughing together until late. But he’d outlasted her again, settling in with a sci-fi movie as she’d crawled under her covers. The low hum of the background noise was kind of nice to fall asleep to, just like waking up and watching him wasn’t bad either. </p><p> </p><p>Months ago, it made sense to push her friends away, but even this short time spent with Murphy has reminded her what she’s missed out on. She has been lonely, in spite of telling herself she wasn’t. Already she feels like contacting everyone is more a matter of <em> when </em> rather than the <em> if </em> it was a handful of days ago. She has Murphy to thank for that, and after she carefully swings her legs over the side of the bed and attaches her brace, the first thing she does is quietly cross over to where he’s laying so she can spread the blanket over his legs and feet. He must sense her presence, or she makes too much noise, or maybe it’s simply the weight of the blanket that does it, but he makes a soft groan in his throat as he shifts positions on the narrow cushions, rolling to his back. </p><p> </p><p>A funny little ache spreads through her as she looks down at him. It’s difficult for her to pinpoint her feelings when it comes to Murphy, and maybe she shouldn’t even be trying to, considering how little time has passed, but she feels the need to examine it, to determine how she should categorize him in her thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>Sighing, she heads to the kitchen to make coffee. Probably she’s over-thinking. She’s good at that; always has been. Which might explain why the topic of kissing Murphy won’t seem to leave her head. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Murphy was still sleeping after she started the coffee, so she pulls on some sweat pants and an old t-shirt and takes her large travel mug downstairs with her to the garage, careful to put the music on quieter than she normally would. She gets lost in the engine work, unaware of how much time passes, and it’s only when her stomach growls at the whiff of something mouth-watering that she looks up, shocked to see Murphy leaning against a tall tool chest across from her, a tray in his hands and an appealing grin on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“How long have you been standing there?” Raven demands, unnerved that she never heard him walk by. </p><p> </p><p>“Not too long,” Murphy shrugs. “I could tell you were in the zone. But I could also tell there weren't any breakfast dishes in the sink, and I know you didn’t eat lunch either, because I was in the kitchen making pies and you didn’t come up. It's almost three o’clock. So I made you a grilled cheese.”</p><p> </p><p>It smells fantastic. And there’s a bowl of soup on his tray too, along with a glass of water. Now that food has crossed her mind, she feels like she’s starving, and she really hadn’t meant to go so long without eating. </p><p> </p><p>“That smells really good,” she acknowledges. “I do tend to lose track of time when I’m working. Let me go wash my hands.”</p><p> </p><p>When she comes back from the industrial sink that’s set up in the back, Murphy has moved over to the customer reception area, placing the tray on the counter where clients check in and sign paperwork. Or where they will once she eventually gets to open, anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you. This looks awesome.” She takes a bite and has to force herself not to inhale it. She really is hungry. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should set an alarm or something so you remember to take a break,” he suggests, possibly out of concern after she wolfs down half the sandwich in about ten seconds. </p><p> </p><p>Swallowing a too-large piece, Raven nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right. When I worked with Sinclair in his garage in Arkadia, he was always the one keeping everyone on schedule. And then after my accident, he was there to remind me about things too. I don’t know, it’s just always been easy for me to get so focused that I don’t realize how much time I’ve put in.”</p><p> </p><p>While she eats, Murphy asks questions about the cars currently sitting in her shop, interested in what upgrades she needs to do to them, and by the time they finish talking and leave the garage, she disappears into her shower and their dinner is a late one. They sit next to each other on the loveseat after, watching a second-rate horror movie, and Murphy brings her a slice of apple rhubarb pie during one of the commercials. Maybe it should startle her that she’s fallen into such a cozy routine with him, but all she really wants to do is let herself enjoy living in the moment for a change, tamping down her urge to question what she’s doing in favor of settling deeper into the pillow at her back and listening to Murphy’s low voice as he makes fun of the terrible choices the onscreen characters are making. </p><p> </p><p>When she crawls into bed, adjusting the covers the way she likes them, the question that’s been nagging at the back of her mind since she woke up and saw Murphy cramped and crowded on her loveseat comes back to poke at her full force. The decision is easy, one she toyed with even when it first occurred to her, and now that another good day has passed between them, maybe it won’t be as awkward to bring it up as she first thought. Before her eyes close, she makes up her mind to ask him tomorrow. </p><p>
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  <em> Day 4  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>When Murphy wakes after the third night sleeping on Raven’s loveseat, he knows two things are true. One, that his back is definitely feeling the effects of a confined sleeping space, and two, he could really get used to someone else making coffee every morning so that it’s ready when he stumbles into the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>“Rough night?” Raven teases, looking over her shoulder at him from her seat at the dining table as he stirs creamer into his mug. </p><p> </p><p>Belatedly, it hits him that he didn’t brush his hair when he was in the bathroom, and the brief glance he took in the mirror confirmed it was sticking up. Oh well. </p><p> </p><p>“I stayed up too late watching those awful horror movies,” he explains, leaving out the part about his aching back. She’ll only feel guilty about it. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to go for a walk today? I’ve been slacking off in the exercise department. My physical therapist would kill me if he knew.”</p><p> </p><p>He walks towards the dining room, aware that Raven’s still wearing her pajamas, same as him. They leave her arms distractingly bare. But today she has on pink socks dotted with tiny black motorcycles. How the hell he’s supposed to endure the lethal combination of sexy and cute is something somebody ought to fill him in on. Preferably quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds good. Weather’s supposed to be decent.” Pulling out the chair across from her, he grins at the sight of her half-eaten slice of pie. “Pie for breakfast, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s got fruit in it,” she defends, “so it totally counts.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, I’ll let you have that one. At least it<em> is </em> breakfast.” He sips his coffee thoughtfully. “I don’t have much on the agenda today, other than checking in with my grandmom. Do you have anything around here that needs doing?”</p><p> </p><p>She wrinkles her forehead, considering. He finds this alarmingly cute too, and digs his fingernails into his upper thigh under the table in a preemptive attempt to stop his body from responding. </p><p> </p><p>“There’s some tools in the backroom downstairs that I need to sort and put away, and these last few boxes over here that I still have to unpack.” Raven lifts her chin towards the pile of boxes along the wall. “Mostly books and things for my bookshelves, I think. It’s not much. Unless you want me to walk you through swapping out the exhaust system on one of the cars downstairs?”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes sparkle with laughter as she asks the question, but he could use a change of pace. And he’s not going to say no to hanging out with her either. Though if this morning is any indication, he’s getting worse at controlling his reactions to her. She looks too good, sitting across from him after they both wake up, making plans for their day like they’re some sort of couple. </p><p> </p><p>“If you’re willing to show me, consider me your willing pupil.”</p><p> </p><p>It surprises her, that he says yes. Her eyes widen just a little and she takes a sip from her coffee, brown eyes attentively watching him over the rim of her mug. </p><p> </p><p>“You planning on increasing the speed of your car sometime soon?”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs, holding in a grin. “Could come in handy, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Laughing, Raven nods. “How about we make a trade? I’ll show you a few things about cars, and you show me how to make a pie this good so I can impress Sinclair next time I get to see him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Deal.”</p><p> </p><p>Yeah, he’s making out like a bandit lately. Maybe lady luck <em>is</em> on his side after all. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They take a break at lunchtime, washing up next to each other at the big sink in the employee area of the garage, and afterwards they walk around the deserted sidewalks of her neighborhood. They bring masks but end up not needing them, able to dodge the people that they do come across without issue. On a walk it’s easier to see that Raven’s pace isn’t as fast as what he could do, and when they get back to her apartment, he thinks she struggles somewhat on the stairs. He doesn’t offer to help, not wanting to insult her but also understanding that she’d probably speak up if she needed anything. He remembers how she told him that she had to learn to walk again after her accident, imagining all the effort that had to go into that and admiring her determination, and when they’re each taking showers and cleaning up before dinner, it occurs to him that maybe he owes her a little of his own backstory. </p><p> </p><p>It turns out to be simple, bringing it up. Raven’s putting together a salad as he checks on the pan of baked penne with roasted vegetables in the oven, both of them lazy and back in pajamas with damp hair and bare feet, and he’s thinking all kinds of domestic thoughts when his phone rings. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Grandmom. You doing okay?” As usual, he barely gets a word in edgewise for a good seven minutes, instead nodding along and grunting in agreement while she shares all the gossip from the retirement home. Her feud with her upstairs neighbor Agnes continues, apparently escalating with the birth of a second great-grandchild for the other woman. Before she can launch into an accusatory lecture about why <em> she </em> doesn’t have any great-grandchildren yet, Murphy tries to shut it down, interrupting her as he pulls two plates from the cabinet. </p><p> </p><p>“Raven taught me how to replace spark plugs today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! She did? That’s so nice of her! I hope you said thank you, John. It’s important to remember your manners, especially since you’re a guest in her home. You know what, dear? Why don’t you put her on for me, I want to hear if you were a good student.”</p><p> </p><p>“Grandmom-”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure she won’t mind. She’s always been much more polite than you are, anyway. Sinclair had an easier time, and don’t you let him tell you different! Raven was an angel compared to you, come to think of it. Not that you’re not a responsible young man now, but you know what I mean! Although do you remember when you-”</p><p> </p><p>“Here she is.” Giving up, he thrusts the phone in Raven’s direction with an apologetic shrug. He may love Melinda Murphy, but a laundry list of his past difficulties isn’t his idea of a fun conversation. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Mrs. Murphy.” Raven takes the phone with a slight frown at his quick retreat, shaking her head at him as she carries the salad bowl into the dining room. He watches as she opens the door to the cabinet by the window, the one with alcohol in it. She peers into it for a bit, a bunch of ‘yes’ and ‘oh really’ comments being made on her end, and when she comes back to the table, she brings a bottle of wine. </p><p> </p><p>By the time Raven finishes with whatever his grandmother wants to say, the penne is finished and cooling on the table, and he’s poured out two wine glasses along with their water and is waiting impatiently. She looks frazzled when she gives him back his phone and sits down across from him, and it makes him laugh. </p><p> </p><p>“She can be overwhelming, can’t she?”</p><p> </p><p>Raven pushes her hair back over her shoulder, a glazed look in her eyes. “I’m not sure, but I think I might have agreed to start watching a soap opera? So we can discuss it together? And I’m supposed to text her some pictures of you working on one of my cars so she can make someone named Agnes jealous?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yup, sounds like a typical chat,” he laughs. “You can probably get out of the soap opera thing by saying it comes on while you’re working, but I fear for you if you forget to text her. She’s got a mind like an elephant and she lives to one-up her upstairs neighbor Agnes. They’ve got some kind of weird rivalry going on.”</p><p> </p><p>He gestures for her plate, putting a serving of the penne on it, and for a few minutes they eat in amiable silence until he takes a sip of the wine and offers her some of his own past to keep things fair. </p><p> </p><p>“I was around twelve when I went to live with her. My dad Alex was her only child, and my grandfather died before I was born. When my dad died, I was ten. I barely saw my grandmother after his funeral, and I didn’t understand it. My mother told me she didn’t want to see us anymore.” He takes another sip, remembering. “I wasn’t sure if that was true or not, because by then my mother was drinking pretty heavily. But the more time that passed and I didn’t see my grandmother, the more I thought she had left me just like my dad did.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven’s listening intently, and she doesn’t have to say anything for him to know she understands. </p><p> </p><p>“My mom eventually drank herself to death, all the while blaming me for what happened to my dad. What I hadn’t known was that Melinda had been trying to see me the whole time, even suing my mother for visitation when she kept us apart. I didn’t really think so at the time, but it was a lucky break that she ended up with custody of me. I didn’t make things easy on her.” He clears his throat, feeling more emotional than he expected. “So I guess I’m saying I pretty much go along with whatever she wants anymore. She moved into that retirement home after she had a pretty scary fall when she was alone. Made me think about how she’s not getting any younger, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do know,” Raven says solemnly. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but I’m glad you had someone there for you like I did. It makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>He nods, and Raven raises her wine glass. “To Melinda and Sinclair, who gave us second chances. May we get to see them both again soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll drink to that,” he agrees, and clinks his glass to hers. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to make things weird,” Raven says from her spot on the corner chair, her feet propped up on the ottoman. </p><p> </p><p>They’ve been watching <em> The Great British Bake Off </em>after dinner, and at first he thought she gave in for his sake but she’s been paying rapt attention too, asking him questions about some of their techniques and if he knows how to make something that catches her eye. There’s a lull as the next episode loads, and that’s when Raven speaks up. She looks nervous when he glances over at her, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already annoyed when she chose to sit there instead of next to him on the loveseat like she’s been doing. He pauses the TV with a prickle of concern, like maybe he’s upset her and he doesn’t know what he did. </p><p> </p><p>“What would be weird?”</p><p> </p><p>She gives him a guilty grin. “I noticed you were shifting your weight a lot in the garage today. I do that too, when my leg is aching. You’ve slept on my loveseat for three nights now, and I know it can’t be comfortable. This quarantine isn’t showing any signs of ending any time soon, and I don’t know when you’re going to be able to go home.” Her eyes flick away, to a point over his shoulder. “It doesn’t make sense for you to knot yourself up each night when there’s another option available. So you should just sleep on the other side of my bed. It’s fine.” Raven nods firmly, like she’s convinced herself, but he’s wondering if he’s heard her properly. </p><p> </p><p>“You want me to sleep there?” He turns his head, looking over his shoulder at her bed. “With you?” It’s definitely possible he sounds incredulous, his voice higher than usual. But damn this was beyond unexpected and hurtling into fantasyland real fast.  </p><p> </p><p>“Quit making it weird!” Raven argues, her cheeks turning pink, making him wonder if she’s embarrassed over the subject matter or just annoyed with how he’s answering her. She takes a deep breath, slowing down her words until she sounds like a teacher who’s lost her patience with the class. “I’m just saying that sleeping in the bed means your back won’t hurt and I won’t feel bad about your back hurting, so it’s a win-win. So we should just be adults about it.”</p><p> </p><p>She wants him to be an adult about it. About sleeping in her bed. <em> With </em> her. Right. </p><p> </p><p>“I can be an adult,” he assures her, though mostly because he can’t think of anything else to say. </p><p> </p><p>“Great,” she smiles, though to him it looks like she might be gritting her teeth. “Then it’s settled.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” he agrees, though his hand doesn’t feel quite steady when he lifts the remote to turn the show back on. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The rest of the evening does feel weird even though neither one of them brings it up again. He figures it’d probably be weirder if they change the routine they’ve fallen into, so he doesn’t move when she says goodnight and eventually emerges from her bathroom to go to bed. But it’s impossible to focus on anything the TV can give him when he feels keyed up from anticipation. Did she ask him solely out of guilt? Should he refuse because that’s a possibility? He’s not sure. There’s no doubt her bed is going to be more comfortable than the loveseat, and his back would certainly thank him for making the switch, but he doesn’t want to risk making things awkward between them either. </p><p> </p><p>On the other hand, Raven doesn’t strike him as the kind of person to propose something that no one’s forcing her into unless she’s made up her mind about it, and in that case, he wants to gratefully accept her suggestion instead of offending her. He’d also like to think that maybe the reason for her blush earlier was due to her own nervousness, maybe even her own interest rather than frustration with him. A guy can dream, right?</p><p> </p><p>Because there’s no ignoring that he wants to. Wants to climb under the covers and stretch out and see what it feels like to wake up next to her in the morning. All while damning the sarcastic little voice inside him that says the multiple harmless playing-house fantasies he’s been having since he’s started staying with Raven are setting him up for a big fall. </p><p> </p><p>In the end, he wrestles with his conscience for about an hour before he brushes his teeth, and when he comes back into the living room, it’s only to lean down for his phone and the pillow that still carries the light trace of Raven’s shampoo. Everything’s dark now, only faint street light peeking through the two front windows, and if he listens carefully, he can make out the sound of Raven’s soft breathing as he gets closer to her bed. She’s on the side closest to the living room, leaving the side nearest the wall empty, her body facing him as he cautiously lifts the blankets and sheet. The feeling of a bed under him, big enough to spread out on after a few days in a cramped position is like heaven. He luxuriates in it for a few minutes, flexing his toes and arching his back until it feels like a few of the kinks are starting to untangle. </p><p> </p><p>At last he gives himself permission to look at her, so much closer than he has any right to be. With her eyes closed, he can stare his fill, not like earlier today when she leaned in close to show him how to take out and put in the spark plugs, her hands covering his while he had to pretend it didn’t affect him at all. That required some effort on his part. But now he can slither within a foot or so of her, relatively confident she won’t open her eyes as long as he’s careful and quiet. There’s so much energy in her when she’s awake, always moving and doing. Asleep she’s that softer version of herself, and he wonders what it would feel like if he was allowed to touch her, to pull her into his arms when she’s all warm and cuddly. </p><p> </p><p>If he had met Raven without any strings connecting them, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d be flirting and doing his best to get her into bed. And not just to lay next to her all night, either. No, he’s absolutely and hopelessly attracted, that’s for sure. But everything’s so complicated because his grandmom would kill him if he steps out of line with Sinclair’s daughter, so he’s stuck in this lousy purgatory of wanting to kiss her at the same time he knows she’s supposed to be forbidden fruit. It’s not like he <em> only </em> wants to have sex with her though. He hasn’t been in a real relationship for ages, and it occurs to him that maybe his vague feelings of restlessness lately have something to do with being unattached and ready to meet someone who could matter. It makes sense, probably. A few of his friends are newly married or engaged. Already he knows he likes spending time with Raven, could see things between them being more than a few dates. Hell, he’s been enjoying their routine so much already that it has him imagining her kissing him when he comes through the door like she’s welcoming him home, and sitting down to eat his meals with her is about a zillion times better than doing it alone. That’s definitely not his usual routine with women, and he knows the very fact that he’s thinking about it at all is enough to tell him that he wants more from Raven than just sex. </p><p> </p><p>There’s no way to know whether things would work out or not if he could have a real relationship with her. But he falls asleep wondering if Raven would still be off limits if his grandmother knew how much he already likes her. And maybe it’s wishful thinking on his part, but he sure could get used to spending more of his days and nights with this girl. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day 5 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It hadn’t been easy, working up enough nerve to tell Murphy that he could sleep in her bed, Raven muses as she stares out the front door of her garage. Even though she hadn’t wanted to make things weird between them, it <em> had </em> changed things, almost as soon as she uttered the words. It had changed the mood in the living room last night when she’d brought it up, and it had felt changed in the pit of her stomach too, when she’d woken up a few hours before sunrise, cold, only to find herself rolled into the middle of the bed and about six inches away from Murphy’s face. Most of the blankets were pulled towards his side of the bed along with her. She’d tugged the covers back over herself slowly, not wanting to wake him up. It had taken her a lot longer to move back to her own side, and not just because she’d made a warm spot either. </p><p> </p><p>Much like Murphy’s presence had stirred up feelings about loneliness with regard to the friendships she’d cast aside, waking up so close to him had reminded her just how long it had been since she’d slept next to someone else. And even when she had, it wasn’t as if they were someone all that important to her. No, Raven hadn’t taken relationships too seriously even before her accident, always so focused on her career goals. Not that she regretted that, exactly. Maybe it was just part of getting older that had her feeling sentimental today. Or maybe it was because she was still struggling over how she should classify Murphy in her head, and whether he belonged strictly in the ‘friend’ category or if he had moved into the ‘possible dating material’ category. Although she was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that she knew the answer already, and the struggle was more about how quickly things had progressed for her rather than anything else. After all, she wasn’t exactly in the habit of wondering what it would be like to kiss Jasper or Monty. And she was at least slightly sure they were still her friends even though she’d gone radio silent on them. </p><p> </p><p>Sighing, she takes the CLOSED sign off the glass window set into the main door, twirling it in her fingers until the letters from each side almost blur. Such a simple thing, this sign. But it represents so much of what she’s feeling. More than anything she wants to put the OPEN side on the door, to move forward after all the time spent recovering from her accident. To finally be <em> doing </em> the things that she’s dreamed of. Lately it feels like there’s more to it than the garage though. Like how it wasn’t only the garage that was ready to be open, but maybe she was ready to stop being so closed off as well. </p><p> </p><p>The thought feels obvious but also like it’s too much at the same time, and she scoffs at her weighty sentiments, moving to put the sign back on the door, but Murphy’s voice interrupts. </p><p> </p><p>“Must be tough, being stuck standing still just when you thought you were at the end of your wait.” </p><p> </p><p>He’s carrying the bin of parts they were using yesterday, here to continue the lesson. She must’ve been wool-gathering for longer than she thought, and she’s a little shaken that he’s read her so easily. </p><p> </p><p>“Well you hit <em> that </em> nail on the head,” she nods, hanging the sign back in place and flipping it to the SORRY WE’RE CLOSED side once more. “I have so many plans, and it’s hard not knowing what’s going to happen next. I’m one of the lucky ones, because at least my savings is enough that I can afford to wait it out for a little while, anyway. But if I can’t open soon, my schedule is going to have to be majorly adjusted.”</p><p> </p><p>She walks over to the car they replaced the spark plugs on, twisting her hair up into a ponytail with the elastic on her wrist before she stands next to Murphy underneath it, the entire thing hoisted safely up on lifts, mentally reminding herself where they left off. </p><p> </p><p>“You said you have a few more cars lined up to work on even while you’re technically closed, so what might have to change?”</p><p> </p><p>She gestures around the garage. “A few of the mechanics I promised to put into full-time positions once I opened are stuck waiting, for one. They’re all at least part-time at other garages, but I chose them all myself and I know they’re the best. I don’t want to risk any of them being forced into taking something else because they have to pay the bills, so I need to make a plan for that. But most of all, even though I love working on the cars, it’s made even better for me because I know that what I can do helps Sinclair. He’s always going on about how I don’t owe him anything, but I’ve made a reputation for myself in the state racing community. Getting some of these higher end repairs and upgrades will get me the kind of money we need so he can retire early. I want that for him, and I hate the idea of putting it off another year.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like a pretty solid plan to me,” Murphy grins, a smudge of grease on his chin evident when he turns toward her. “Although once Sinclair retires, my grandmother is going to have him pinned down for a lunch or dinner get together at least once a week, I bet.” He nudges her shoulder with his arm. “You know, once they open some of the other non-essential businesses up again, I bet you could work in here with another mechanic as long as you wear your masks. You’d be six feet apart for sure. Or maybe split shifts somehow to make sure people can keep earning a paycheck. I have a feeling just like you don’t want to lose them, they probably don’t want to miss out on working for you either.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s nice, having someone care enough to reassure her. Since she used up most of her bravery inviting him into her bed though, he’s just going to have to be satisfied with something simple this round instead of her telling him so. </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Murphy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just stating facts,” he shrugs, but she leans in a little closer than necessary, their bodies brushing as she shows him how to detach the oxygen sensors from the sides of the exhaust pipes. She tells herself it’s strictly out of gratitude, but with the way her pulse leaps at the feel of him, she's not convincing anybody. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She and Murphy stumble onto a Netflix movie late, a Chinese period film with English subtitles and lots of action that has them both intrigued, and she’s too engrossed with it to turn in at her usual time. But even Murphy’s yawning by the time it’s over and they talk about it for a little while, both of them admitting defeat as they head to their separate bathrooms to take care of their nightly routine. He beats her into bed and it does feel a little strange to have his eyes on her as she pulls back the covers and climbs in, releasing the straps on her brace before she lays back against the pillow. </p><p> </p><p>Long minutes pass, neither of them falling asleep. It’s...different, to know he’s mere inches away. A larger part of her than she expects wants to roll towards him, find out what he’d do if she slid closer. It feels intimidating to carry it out, not knowing if he’d move in closer too or turn away. She can hear him breathing as they lay still, and focuses on her own breath, trying to steady it out like she does when she’s doing some of her leg exercises. She must do a good job relaxing because her body jolts, startling out of an almost-sleep when Murphy whispers into the darkness. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Raven…You wanna know something?”</p><p> </p><p>The mattress dips as he adjusts his weight, and she can feel the shared blanket tighten between them.  </p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” </p><p> </p><p>“This is a pretty good vacation so far.”</p><p> </p><p>She rolls towards him before she can even think about it, a drowsy smile on her face due to his ridiculous statement. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re a mess, Murphy. Go to sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>He grins at her through the shadows, both of them now on their sides facing each other. She tries to keep her eyes open, if only for a minute or two so she can have a memory of this moment, but she did too good of a job relaxing. Her eyelids flutter shut, tiredness taking over as she starts to drift off again. Maybe she imagines it, but a velvety murmur floats through her consciousness, just at the edge of her awareness. </p><p> </p><p>“Sweet dreams, Raven.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day 6 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The afternoon of the sixth day of their quarantine has him half-heartedly perusing his emails on his laptop at the dining table while Raven’s working in her garage, all because he’d gotten the stupid idea that he should probably let her get some real work done on her own while he stayed in the apartment. The last two days he was downstairs with her, learning whatever Raven wanted to teach him. It’s only been a few hours since they shared breakfast but already he’s missing her company. Not to mention how if he was down there right now, he’d get to be pressed up close against her while she leaned in and showed him how to do something, even closer than when he’d woken up this morning in her bed, since then only her knees had been touching his thigh. Although that had been pretty nice too, especially when he’d shifted to face her and she hadn’t moved. He’d taken advantage, reaching out to gently draw one finger over the palm of her hand and down towards her wrist as it rested on the mattress in between them. Probably he shouldn’t have done it, but it was easy to convince himself the tiny caress was okay when what he really wanted to do was sling his arm over her hip, pull her to his chest and find out what it felt like to brush his lips along the curve of her neck. </p><p> </p><p>When his phone rings in the middle of the increasingly detailed memory of how he’d woken up, seeing the caller ID reminds him he hasn’t been doing a great job of keeping in touch with the other people in his life. He answers with a touch of eagerness, relieved for the distraction before his imagination gets too carried away, just like it did when he’d forced himself to get out of Raven’s bed before he took things too far. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Jasper. How’s it going?”</p><p> </p><p>He met Jasper about a year ago when Jasper started working at the same restaurant as Murphy, and eventually they’d started talking more during their shifts, occasionally getting together outside of work with a few other coworkers or sometimes on their own. It was a side job for Jasper, and as he’d explained it, he was only going to be doing it for as long as it took him to save up enough money to buy a nice ring for his girlfriend since he wanted to propose. Murphy had joked that after the ring came the wedding, and after the wedding came the honeymoon, and after that came a house and then a baby, so maybe Jasper should stop considering it a temporary thing and just admit that he had two jobs. He knew Jasper was alright when the young man had laughed instead of being spooked, saying that it was all worth it as long as he had his girlfriend by his side, and after that the two of them had gotten along pretty well. </p><p> </p><p>“Murphy, my man! This quarantine <em> sucks</em>! I don’t get to see Maya much because she’s doing a lot of hospital shifts and she’s worried she’s going to pass along germs, so she’s staying at her place all the time. Everybody’s being real careful, which I get, but I am <em> bored</em>!” Jasper groans and Murphy laughs at his dramatics. “Guess what though? I rigged up a sick game console arrangement and can project the screen onto the side of the garage out here so it can be played outside with multiple players. We can play while social distancing! Buy some snacks and tell me when you can come over!”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, that sounds awesome but I’m not even in Polis right now. Everything hit and closed up tight while I was visiting my grandmom at her retirement home in Shallow Valley, and I couldn’t get a train out. So I’m crashing with someone I just met until the travel ban lifts.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn, Murphy! Here I thought I had it bad - but at least I’m not stuck with a stranger. Sucks for you, dude.”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, she’s pretty great,” Murphy reveals, “and I’m <em> definitely </em> not complaining.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh, really?” Jasper drawls, picking up on Murphy’s interest. “So tell me how it happened.”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy fills him in on some of the details, describing how his grandmother knew someone who might be able to find him a place and how it had come together quickly and solved the problem even though it meant staying in a studio apartment with a stranger for who knew how long. </p><p> </p><p>“Wow, you got lucky then. You know, Shallow Valley isn’t far from Arkadia,” Jasper explains. “That’s where I grew up. It’s a decent area. I haven’t been back for a while though.”</p><p> </p><p>When Jasper mentions Arkadia, Murphy’s ears perk up. That’s where Sinclair’s garage is, where Raven grew up too. “You went to high school in Arkadia?”</p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunately,” Jasper laughs. “But I had some good friends to help me get through it.”</p><p> </p><p>“My new roommate is from Arkadia, actually. And she’s our age. Maybe you know her then - Raven Reyes?”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, going on much longer than Jasper’s usual endless energy. </p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit,” Jasper eventually spills out, shock evident in his tone. “You’re staying with <em> Raven</em>? Is she… is she okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy doesn’t know whether to be confused or alarmed. “I mean, yeah, she seems good to me. You do know her, I guess…?” He trails off, not knowing what to think. </p><p> </p><p>“Me an’ Raven an’ Monty went to high school together, yeah. We did stuff together all the time, and all through college too. She was really excited to finally be making the move to open her own garage. But then like, shit, I don’t know, seven months ago? Eight? She got into a nasty car accident, messed up her leg real bad. And she kind of pushed everyone away, didn’t want any visitors, wouldn’t return our calls. Still hasn’t. Monty called her dad a few times to check on her but he said she needed time. I can’t believe that’s who you’re staying with.” </p><p> </p><p>“Raven told me about her accident. And all the rehab she needed to walk again. I can’t speak for her but as far as I can see she’s doing freaking amazing for having to go through all that. She’s only been in the apartment above her garage for a few days before I came along. It’s a really nice place, and her garage is awesome - just waiting for the go-ahead to open. She actually showed me how to replace spark plugs the other day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Man, that’s crazy,” Jasper says, his voice sad. “I’m really glad she’s doing good but… Listen, I know it’s weird, but can you tell her something for me? Can you tell her I really miss her? Monty does too, I know it. Do you think you can convince her to call one of us?”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy sighs, looking out at the deserted street below the dining room window. “Jasper, I hear what you’re saying, and I'll talk to her about this conversation and how it turns out we have a friend in common, and I’ll even tell her you miss her. But I don’t know what she thinks, why she’s cutting herself off from you guys. Maybe I can find a way to say you want to hear from her, but I don’t want to upset her in some way by pushing her to call you. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> like </em> her though, right Murphy?” Jasper asks knowingly. </p><p> </p><p>That’s a loaded question. But there’s only one answer. “Yeah. I like her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Take good care of her then. She’s been through a lot. And even if she never talks to me again, I want her to be happy.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven seems to have that effect on people, it seems. But he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead he says something that’s probably been true since the first day he met her. </p><p> </p><p>“I want her to be happy too, and I’m staying for as long as she’ll have me.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Raven’s excited at dinner, anxious to tell Murphy all about a mechanic friend of hers named Lincoln who called her earlier with the news that he recommended her for a motorcycle repair contract with a local racing team and all she has to do is seal the deal, but she can tell he’s preoccupied even though he does an admirable job of being enthusiastic. It’s not until later, when she goes out on her fire-escape-turned-porch to drink a glass of wine in the cool night air that she learns what he was thinking about. </p><p> </p><p>She’s been outside about twenty minutes, admiring the view of the stars and the light hint of rosemary on the breeze from where her new pot sits on the table next to the swing. The scent makes her think of the saying that rosemary is for remembrance. Probably she read it in a book at some point. It seems fitting for where her mind has been these last few days, remembering so many of her decisions during the past year and wondering if she did the right thing. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you mind company?” Murphy gestures to the swing she’s occupying, but she’s already sliding over since there’s nowhere else to sit. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s getting chillier but there’s a good view of the stars tonight,” she tells him, privately glad that he chose to come outside with her. She got a lot accomplished on her exhaust system repair today, but she missed having Murphy to talk and laugh with in the garage. His absence gave her a lot of time to think, though, and she isn’t so confused about him any more, doesn’t need to take any longer to sort out her feelings. </p><p> </p><p>He sinks down onto the cushion beside her, rocking the swing with first his weight and then the rhythmic motion of his leg. They watch the stars in silence for a little while as they each sip their wine, and then he looks at her, his eyes serious. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to overstep any boundaries here, Raven, but I got a call from a friend that I work with today and as we were talking, it turns out that he knows you.”</p><p> </p><p>Whatever it was that was distracting him, she hadn’t foreseen this. But there’s really only two ‘he’s’ that it could be. It sends a burst of pain through her chest, but it isn’t as bad as it could be. Maybe because they’ve already been on her mind so much. </p><p> </p><p>“Was it Monty or Jasper?”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy raises his eyebrows, and Raven explains further. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a lot of friends anyway, and you said it was a he. Kind of narrowed the field.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was Jasper,” Murphy confirms. “He works part-time at the restaurant, and we hang out sometimes. It’s mostly a work thing, or he and I have played some video games and have had a few drinks. I don’t know Monty, but Jasper has mentioned him now and then.”</p><p> </p><p>A fond smile crosses Raven’s lips as she thinks about him. “I’m guessing he told you some stuff, like about how I haven’t talked to him for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy looks like he’s unsure of how to answer, so she lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug and continues. “I’m not mad about it or anything. It’s actually pretty great that you guys know each other. I love Jasper and Monty. Even if I haven’t been a good friend for too long.”</p><p> </p><p>“He wanted me to tell you that he misses you.”</p><p> </p><p>That makes her sad, even though it’s not unexpected. The sting of tears prickles behind her eyelids. “I miss him too,” she whispers, attempting to hold back from crying. </p><p> </p><p>Murphy reaches out and covers her knee with his warm palm. The gesture is comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I do want to talk about it. It’s been on my mind a lot lately, even before you brought it up.” She wipes her eyes and shifts her body towards him on the swing, relieved when he doesn’t move his hand away. “The car accident happened not long after I found out my boyfriend at the time was cheating on me. I wasn’t in love with him, but it still hurt. So when I got the news about how badly my leg was injured and that there was a possibility that I wouldn’t walk again, it was like everything just piled on. How could I open my garage or repair engines if I couldn’t walk? What would my life be like if I couldn’t live out the things that I had been working towards and dreaming about? You have to understand - at the time I couldn’t really pull myself out of that kind of disaster thinking. I felt like my entire life was being ruined. It took months of therapy for me to figure out that my injury didn’t have to end all my plans.”</p><p> </p><p>Saying everything out loud brings the memories of those hopeless feelings back, and she has to stop for a minute to collect herself. Murphy leans in and gently takes her wine glass away, setting it on the table alongside his own. She forgot she had been holding it. </p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, it was a lot to deal with. And I don’t know what I should call it, but I couldn’t find the energy, or the mental space, to really do anything but focus on being able to walk again, to work again. To not go insane feeling sorry for myself. I stopped returning phone calls, I turned visitors away, pretty much everybody except Sinclair. And it wasn’t because I didn’t care, or that I thought they didn’t care about me. They wanted to help me, I <em> know </em> that. But in order to help myself I just had to block everything and everyone else out.” She shrugs, self-conscious even though it feels good to unload it all. “I’m not saying it was the right way, but it was the only way I knew how to do it. I didn’t want to talk about all the painful therapy sessions and the dark places my head was going, but I didn’t want to fake that everything was fine either. So I just didn’t talk about anything at all. To anybody.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s no judgment in Murphy’s blue eyes, only understanding. “I don’t think anybody could blame you for handling this in whatever way you could, whatever way got you through it. Just hearing about everything you had to deal with is tough - and you actually <em> lived </em> it. And came out the other side. I don’t think you have any reason to second-guess yourself on this, Raven. I know I wasn’t here, and I can imagine how worried your friends were about you, but for what it’s worth, I think anybody who cares about you would understand why you distanced yourself.” He gives her a crooked grin and squeezes her knee, his tone changing from serious to a little bit teasing. “Maybe you should tell them all that though, so that they <em> will </em> understand.”</p><p> </p><p>A choked laugh escapes her throat. “Yeah. That’s...that’s kind of the conclusion I’ve been realizing. I guess I just thought that I could ease back into everything, a little at a time. Move in to a new place, open up the shop and get a routine going. And then maybe I’d find the courage to pick up the phone and find out if I had wrecked all my friendships or not. But then all this happened and I…”. </p><p> </p><p>She trails off, feeling uncertain. Her eyes flick back up to Murphy’s, trying to find some insight. He’d talked to Jasper, maybe he knows. </p><p> </p><p>“Did he, did Jasper seem angry with me?” It comes out rough, the question burning her throat because she’s scared to hear the answer. Has been fearful of it for months, and it’s a big reason why she’s felt numb for so long. What if in the process of putting herself back together, she lost the people who mattered so much to her?</p><p> </p><p>In the scant seconds she has to read his expression, all she can see is genuine concern before he pulls her into a hug, his arms wrapping tight around her back as she lets herself be comforted in his warm embrace. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, no. No. I didn’t get the impression he’s angry. Not at all. Desperate to know how you were doing, yeah. Sad about missing you, yeah. But not angry, Raven. I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>Even as she’s grateful for his reassuring words, it’s impossible not to notice how her head fits just right against his shoulder, how there’s no hesitation on her part to hug him in return even though she hasn’t been touched with affection by anyone other than Sinclair for so long. There’s nothing awkward about any of it, including that he now knows some of the most painful things that have happened to her, that she’s done in return. It seems crazy that less than a week ago, Murphy was a stranger, not involved in her life at all. Now he’s in her apartment, in her bed and he’s holding her tight while he makes her feel better about things that have been weighing on her for months. He's made her care about him already, has her wanting to know if there could be more between them than the friendship they’ve so quickly fallen into. Hopes that there can be. </p><p> </p><p>Their hug lasts long enough to make her question whether consoling her is the only thing it’s about. Not that she’ll complain. She’ll stay here as long as he’ll let her, her hands splayed across his back and cheek pressed against his shoulder. The fingers on his right hand drift absentmindedly up and down her spine, and it feels better than good, feels like the kind of touch she wants to get used to, and when he eventually begins to move slightly backwards and away from her, their eyes meet and the moment is fraught with anticipation. </p><p> </p><p>She wonders if he’ll lean across the scant distance between them, if he’ll kiss her like she wants him to. Another version of herself would do it, would go for it and just <em> take </em> what she wants, but that was before. Before her accident and the long road to recovery and the fragile scaffold she’s built around her heart to protect it. For a moment she can practically see it, the intent in his eyes and the way they flick down to her lips like he’s going to give in and her pulse jumps with the knowledge. But then his gaze flits away from her as he slides a few inches across the padded seat, leaving her colder than before he touched her. A sigh escapes his lips, soft, but his palm finds her knee again as they look back up at the starry sky. She nudges the grating under her feet with her toes, setting the swing in motion. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll call them in the next few days,” Raven says, wanting to take the necessary step even though she’s not sure if she’s prepared for the emotions it’s going to release. “Do you think you could sit with me while I do it?”</p><p> </p><p>Murphy turns his head to look at her, his silhouette dark though she can feel the heat of his gaze. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”</p><p> </p><p>His answer fills her with too many emotions at once. It makes her feel bold so she lays her hand on top of his, wanting him to know she appreciates it. He surprises her by turning his hand up so they’re palm to palm, their fingers entwining like its second nature. </p><p> </p><p>They sit outside for a long while after, quiet but together. She could definitely get used to this. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Raven passes the wine glasses through the open window to Murphy, who turns to put them on the coffee table so she can climb inside with empty hands. She’s been in and out of her apartment this way hundreds of times to access the little porch on the back, and though her brace often makes her movements less than graceful, this time when she lifts her good leg over the sill, the top of the stiff brace catches on the window ledge, knocking her off balance as she starts to fall into the living room. She throws her hands out to catch herself, but Murphy’s there first, grabbing her shoulders before she can hit the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” she mumbles as she clumsily gets her feet under her, his hands firm on her biceps, keeping her steady. </p><p> </p><p>They forgot to turn on a lamp on this side of the apartment, so only the faint light from the kitchen spills into the hallway and casts shadows, keeping the room dim in the evening starlight. The sound of crickets interrupts the silence alongside the erratic beat of her heart, thudding forcefully in her ears. Maybe the fall is partly to blame for the surge in her pulse, but it’s not the only thing. Standing this close to Murphy has a lot to do with it too, especially when she looks up at him only to find him staring right back. </p><p> </p><p>It feels too warm in the room, his hands sending a flow of heat under her skin as the seconds tick away. It’s different from the moment they pulled back from their hug on the swing, heightened somehow, and this time there’s no question of what’s going to happen. It’s inescapable, and the reality of the kiss she’s been anticipating for days is so much better than what she imagined. His lips on hers. Her smooth cheek held firm in his calloused palm. The way her fingers tingle as they glide over the warm skin on the back of his neck. How their bodies align and press close. Then closer still. Kissing Murphy empties her head of every comprehensible thought she has and fills it back up again but with fireworks and feelings and lightning bolts of desire instead. Kissing Murphy steals her breath away. And when their mouths finally split apart so they can both come up for air, one look into his expressive blue eyes is enough to confirm that her heart has been stolen too. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day 7 </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Before he even opens his eyes, Murphy knows things are different. Waking up with his arm around Raven and her head tucked onto his shoulder is an obvious clue, but he <em> feels </em> different beyond that. Last night he thought he missed his chance to kiss her, out on the swing. He’d wanted to, so badly, but his conscience nagged at him because Raven was upset and emotional, and much as he’d wanted to know what she would feel like in his arms, how she tasted, he’d bit back the urge and forced himself to keep his hands off her. But then she’d lost her balance ducking under the window sill and he’d reached out to keep her from falling and then she was so close and looking at him with those wide brown eyes and there was nothing to do but give in to temptation. </p><p> </p><p>The kiss was a kind of cataclysm, a massive shift within him where everything rearranged and made so much more sense in the aftermath. Raven had taken a tiny step backwards, looking up at him as they both tried to catch their breath, and the persistent mood of restlessness inside him that had been making him feel unsettled - for months now - had just been...gone. Like she’d magically just waved it away when her lips brushed his. Maybe she had. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have too much time to think about it then, because to his profound satisfaction, Raven had kissed him again. They’d ended up falling into the loveseat at some point, making out like teenagers until he’d been so worked up he’d lifted her off his lap and told her that he didn’t want to rush things and he had to stop. It ought to have earned him major karma points or something, since her lips were swollen and her cheeks were pink from the scrape of his stubble, and it hadn’t been easy to turn the TV on and get himself under control.</p><p> </p><p>Raven hadn’t said anything about any of it, just nodded and kept to her her side of the cushions. It was only after he’d joined her in her bed last night that she’d spoken up, still awake because even though he knew sleeping with her after all those kisses was going to be a challenge, he hadn’t wanted to stay up alone. She had probably only been under the covers by herself for twenty minutes before he’d joined her. He’d thought about what to say while he’d brushed his teeth, wondering if she’d let him kiss her goodnight or even if he should since it hadn’t been easy to calm down before. She’d taken it all out of his hands though, scooting closer to sweetly kiss him on the cheek, whispering a goodnight before she tucked herself into his side and laid her head near his shoulder. He’d put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, and opening his eyes now, he can see they’ve barely moved from that position all night. </p><p> </p><p>She’s still curled into him, her head just farther onto his chest and her palm curved just above his hip. He was right about her shampoo - it’s the same scent under his nose from the pillow she gave him, and he can’t picture a better way to wake up than this one. He does feel different, knowing what it’s like to kiss Raven. What it’s like to have her in his arms while she’s warm and cuddly as he’d fantasized about just a few days ago. </p><p> </p><p>And now that he knows exactly how it feels, he’s going to do his best to make sure he gets to wake up like this for a very long time to come. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They spend the morning being lazy. She makes the coffee and he cooks breakfast, though it’s more like brunch by the time they eat it. Neither of them change out of their pajamas and later he keeps his promise, attempting to teach her how to make a pie from scratch. The kitchen looks wrecked by the time they get it in the oven since they spend more time kissing than cleaning up as they go, and even though the edges of the pie crust gets burned because they lose track of time, they cut that part off and it still tastes delicious. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day 9 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Raven calls Monty for the first time in over eight months. Murphy holds her hand while she does it. There’s tears, but mostly from relief. And then there’s a lot of laughter when they follow it up with a call to Jasper. Afterwards it’s like a weight has been lifted off Raven’s shoulders, her smile lighter and more quick to appear. And fortunately for him, she keeps sending it in his direction. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day 13 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sinclair corners them while they’re having a video chat, asking whether Raven will take the all black kitten or the black one with four white paws and a fluffy patch of white under its chin, and then he cheerfully adds on that he’s sure Murphy will be happy to take whichever one she doesn’t choose. Raven laughs until her eyes water because Sinclair doesn’t even give Murphy a choice, since at that point Sinclair’s so attached to them he’ll probably keep the mom and at least one kitten himself.</p><p> </p><p>She convinces Murphy to commit to the all black furball, but they spend the rest of the evening playfully arguing over whether the felines will be named after cheese or something more sophisticated. Raven is determined, but when he points out that both kittens are girls, even she isn’t sure if Beaufort really works any longer. They end up making a numbered list of twelve topics they take turns coming up with, including names of cheeses, car parts, famous chefs, foreign cities and moons of Jupiter. They each roll a dice and with their combined total, the category they end up with are names from the works of Edgar Allen Poe. Raven chooses one from her namesake poem, and Murphy chooses Lygeia. She deems it too depressing and hard to pronounce even though Murphy swears it’s fitting, and in the end it doesn’t take much to get him to do things her way.</p><p> </p><p>Lenore and Annabel Lee are going to be some spoiled felines. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Day 16</p><p> </p><p>Murphy shuts down his laptop after reading the latest virus updates from the state governor. The trains have been running with a modified schedule and reduced routes for essential workers, but it looks like he’s going to be able to buy a return ticket and go back to Polis as of tomorrow. Part of him doesn’t want to tell Raven at all - wants to keep living in this magical little bubble where they talk to their family and friends on the phone and with video chats, but for all intents and purposes, they only <em> see </em> each other. Only touch each other. And he likes it that way. Likes that he gets to have her all to himself as they figure out exactly what this is between them. </p><p> </p><p>He heads towards the garage, thinking. Most likely they would have taken things much slower if they weren’t living together as they navigated their new relationship. Gone on dates once or twice a week, maybe, and while they didn’t live far apart, it was enough distance that it would have involved some planning ahead. But spending so much time together, every day and every evening, and then falling asleep tangled up in each other didn’t exactly lend itself to slow. <em> Not that he minds that either</em>, he smirks to himself as he catches a glimpse of Raven bending over under the hood of the car she’s currently tinkering with. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, can you take a break?” he calls out as he walks across the concrete floor towards her. She looks over, smiling brightly, making him feel like it just got about a dozen degrees warmer in the region of his chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, what’s up?” Raven leans back against the door of the car, pushing up the long sleeves of the protective zip-up suit she’s wearing. Somehow she makes the grease-stained and bulky outfit look sexy. </p><p> </p><p>“Was watching the news just now. Looks like the trains’ll be up and running starting tomorrow. I could get back to my apartment, finally be out of your hair.” He should have thought about how to phrase things, but it all just comes out in his nerves over her response. The last thing he wants to do is leave, even if they do have to get back to their real lives at some point. He'd put it off indefinitely if he could. Hell, who is he kidding, he never wants to go back to his lonely apartment, and he for sure never wants to sleep without her again.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Raven replies, her voice flat. “Does your restaurant want you to come back early too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, they’re still not scheduled to open for take-out until next week, so I don’t have to go back in until then.”</p><p> </p><p>“You haven’t been home for over two weeks. You probably have things you need to catch up on…” She trails off, making it sound more like a question than a statement, and suddenly it doesn’t matter that this is all so new and fast and he’s not completely sure where she stands. He knows where <em> he </em> does. </p><p> </p><p>“The only thing I have back at my apartment is a bunch of moldy leftovers in the fridge and an unmade bed. I don’t <em> want </em>to go back.”</p><p> </p><p>The look of relief on her face is immediate. “Then don’t go,” she pleads, and before she’s finished talking he’s pressing her against the car door, his mouth insistent on hers, one hand tangling in her hair and the other tugging down the zipper on her jumpsuit so he can touch the bare skin of her shoulder exposed by her tank top. He knows what she likes now, same for her with him, and the kiss rapidly builds into something wild and exuberant. Kind of like them. </p><p> </p><p>“Raven,” he gasps, pulling his mouth away but leaving his hands on her. “I’m serious about wanting to stay. I’m serious about <em> you</em>. If it’s up to me, I’m only going back to pack my stuff and quit my job, and I don’t care if it’s too fast because I’m in love with you and that’s not going to change. But if you need some time-”</p><p> </p><p>She cuts him off, putting a finger to his lips. “No, I don’t need any time. When you know, you know, and I know I’m in love with you, too. Maybe it’s selfish of me because it’s you who has to uproot everything since my garage is here, but I don’t want you to go back to Polis either.” Raven slides her hands under his shirt and up his back, a flirtatious grin spreading across her lips. “Let me see if I can sweeten the pot for you since you’re kind of getting the short end of the stick on this one. You can have access to my double ovens and kitchen twenty-four-seven and all you have to do in return is move in with me and kiss me whenever I want.”</p><p> </p><p>“No way I can refuse that kind of offer.” He tightens his arm around her waist and lifts one of her arms up to wrap around his shoulders. “But just so you know, I’m also going to kiss you whenever<em> I </em> want.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can live with that,” Raven whispers, and yeah, his suspicions are correct. He is a lucky, lucky man and the next time he goes to the store, he is definitely buying a lottery ticket. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Day 20 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Melinda Murphy closes the video app on her phone and slowly counts to thirty, determined not to sound quite as ecstatic as she’s feeling when she makes her next call. Even so, her fingers are practically vibrating with excitement as she pulls up her contact list. He answers on the second ring. Probably expecting her. She doesn’t wait for him to say anything, just bulldozes ahead like always. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, well, well! What do you think about <em> this </em> turn of events, my old friend?” They’d just ended a video chat with John and Raven, the four of them connecting for the first time all together in a shared screen via their phones. </p><p> </p><p>Jacapo Sinclair laughs heartily into her ear. “I thought they were going to tell me they had changed their minds about taking the kittens when they said they had something they wanted to tell us! I had no idea they were going to say that they’ve fallen for each other and are moving in together! They’re moving so fast - John’s already found a job at a new local restaurant and he’s terminated his lease on his apartment. I guess they didn’t want either of us trying to change their minds.”</p><p> </p><p>She snorts, turning her face away from the phone so Sinclair can’t hear her. As if she had any intentions of stopping them. </p><p> </p><p>“My grandson knows a good thing when he sees it,” she asserts. “I always knew the two of them would get along.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s interesting,” Sinclair chuckles, “considering you were the one always making excuses about introducing them for all those years. Sometimes it felt like you were conspiring to keep them apart.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had my reasons.” </p><p> </p><p>And she did. All those years ago she had met Sinclair in the foster parent classes, and he had always reminded her of her son Alex, even in the beginning. They’d formed a friendship, despite their age difference, and it was apparent that Sinclair thought his foster-daughter Raven was just about perfect regardless of the baggage she brought along with her as the abandoned and orphaned child of an abusive and alcoholic parent. And really, Melinda had been impressed too, once she met Raven herself. It had always been in her head that John would like her, but she wasn’t about to let them meet until they’d both matured and settled into their lives. Her friendship with Sinclair was too important to be damaged by his daughter and her grandson mucking things up, but also she knew John very well. He needed to be in the right headspace to meet a girl like Raven, and she had been so saddened that just when she thought he could finally be ready, Raven had suffered her accident. Her plans to introduce them had been put on hold indefinitely, but this sudden quarantine had changed everything. </p><p> </p><p>“You haven’t seen Raven in a few years, but it’s not like her to be this impulsive,” Sinclair worries. “Do you think they’re doing the right thing?”</p><p> </p><p>“I may not have seen her in person, but you’ve shared your pictures like the proud father you are, told me all about what she’s been up to,” Melinda explains. “She’s a lovely young woman with a good head on her shoulders. Very strong and determined, too.”</p><p> </p><p>She’d done the same, telling her friend all about John and the things happening in his life so that Sinclair would know that her grandson was good enough for Raven when the time came. John had come a long way from his own terrible parenting situation too, and she was proud of the man he'd become. Even if she did like nagging him for all the trouble he'd put her through. Not that Sinclair knew that’s what she was doing, of course.  He just thought she liked to brag too. Which was only partially correct.</p><p> </p><p>“Besides,” she continues, a note of glee in her voice thinking of the two of them cuddled next to each other onscreen, “you saw how they were on the video. They could barely keep their eyes or their hands off each other. They’re clearly in love, and who are we to interfere with that?”</p><p> </p><p>“She did look happier than I’ve seen her for a long time, maybe ever,” Sinclair admits. “Who would have guessed that this could happen? Melinda - maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here, but it’s possible we could end up being grandparents together! Wouldn’t that be something?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s difficult, but she suppresses the cackle that wants to fly out of her throat. Oh, there was someone who could have guessed, alright. </p><p> </p><p>“If that happens, my dear friend, it will be one of the great joys of my life to share grandchildren with you.”</p><p> </p><p>And it would be, no doubt about it. But there weren’t going to be any ‘ifs’ involved, she’d make sure of that. So what if she didn’t have any great-grandchildren yet. When they came - and by god, they <em>would</em> come - they’d be a helluva lot cuter than those urchins her neighbor Agnes kept bragging about, that was for sure. She doesn’t share that bit with Sinclair though. Much better to let everyone think this all came about by accident and not her years of plotting. Especially because she's got a feeling that Sinclair might be just the right match for her favorite caretaker, Indra. It's possible she can have that going strong within the next three months. That fall she'd faked to move into the retirement home not far from where Raven would be opening her garage had been a brilliant move on her part. The plan hadn't gone exactly the way she'd envisioned, but all in all, things were coming together very nicely indeed.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What's everybody thinking of s7 so far? As always, I have a lot to say. My tumblr DM's are always open if you want to talk/yell/scream/faint about it! Your kudos &amp; comments are much appreciated and thank you for sticking with me through another story!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, thank you for reading and for those of you who keep coming back - thank you thank you for your support! If you liked this story (and any story by any writer on ao3), please consider kudos and/or commenting! Feedback is the fastest way to more content from pretty much every fic writer out there and it's the only way we know if our stories are resonating with fandom!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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